


Abiding Rules

by MorbidDramaMaker



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Age Difference, Amnesia, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Destiny element, Drama, Dream Sequence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, Fluff, Hades and Persephone Elements, Kidnapping, Lost Memories, Magic, Monarchy, Mythology References, POV Third Person Limited, Pagan elements, Post-Canon, Sarah POV, Slow Burn, Tamora Pierce Inspired, Terrible Mothers, child kidnapping, fae, non-canon backstory, slower burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 78,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorbidDramaMaker/pseuds/MorbidDramaMaker
Summary: Fairy tales have certain rules. Don't trust wolves. Don't stay out past midnight. Stepmothers are inevitably evil. Labyrinths must be run. And beauties belong with beasts.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from Fanfiction.net, originally posted between 2017-2018

**-XXX-**

If she remembered the story correctly, the sacrifice on the part of the daughter was supposed to have been made by the daughter, with the daughter's knowing consent. There was some guilt on the parent's part, of course, a lot of declarations of love and promises of never forgetting. That was how the story usually went, anyways, Sarah mused huffily as she tilted her head back. She winced when her skull made contact with the cold stone.

No, the story wasn't exactly playing out as she'd remembered. But then again, her mother wasn't like a fairy tale mother - that is to say, dead or kind. In fact, she was behaving more like an evil stepmother. Wryly, Sarah reflected that Karen, for all her faults, would not have traded her son or step-daughter for youth and fame. Linda however was not restrained by feelings of love or morality. Not now and not fifteen years ago when she bargained away her daughter's soul.

Sarah knew her mother wasn't particularly affectionate or present when it came to her role as a mother. When Linda left Robert and Sarah fifteen years ago it took them both a while to come to terms with her departure. They both came to realize that she wasn't suited for the role of wife and mother, never would be, and they'd accepted that. Sarah came to appreciate the few days she spent with Linda in New York every summer. Robert moved on and married Karen. They accepted Linda's faults and left it at that.

So both of them had been surprised when out of the blue Linda called insisting that twenty-two-year-old Sarah come to visit her following her graduation. "You can find an internship here!" she'd said, enthusiastically. "There are so many more opportunities in New York than in Portland! And you could stay with me! I feel like I've been so out of your life since you started college."

It took a lot of self-control for Sarah not to point out the Linda had not really been a part of her life since she was seven. Instead, she replied slowly. "I don't know. I mean, I don't really have anything lined up, but I was hoping that I could stay close to Dad and Karen. I know they'd appreciate the help with Toby."

"Oh Sarah," Linda sighed. "You're a young woman! You can't live your life for the sake of others. They can always find a babysitter, but your window of opportunity won't always be open. You're only young once, after all!"

She made some fair points. Maybe it was her mother's eagerness and Sarah's willingness to be mothered a little. Maybe it was because New York did make more sense, Portland was too small and too stale for her ambitions. Or maybe it was because she did want to live her own life away from her father, Karen, and Toby. There were a lot of emotions swirling around Sarah's head. She said yes.

Robert was reluctant but supportive. He drove Sarah to the airport after they dropped Toby off at school.

"You can always come back," he said seriously. "If it doesn't work out or you're having a hard time with your mother."

The fifteen-year-old Sarah would have gotten upset at the insinuation that things might not go as planned. But twenty-two-year-old Sarah had mellowed considerably and she merely squeezed her father's hand.

"I know. I'll call you when I get there."

He helped her unload the bags and walked her to the security line. The hug he offered was longer than usual and Sarah pecked his cheek when she pulled away.

"Tell you mother we said hello," he said, averting his eyes. "We'll call you if you don't call by five."

"Okay, Daddy."

**-XXX-**

That was the last time she'd seen her father, nearly two weeks ago. As Sarah curled up against the wall of the darkened oubliette, she wondered if she'd ever see him again. Linda had not apparently concerned herself with this prospect, which caused Sarah to wonder what her plan was, exactly. How would she explain Sarah's disappearance to Robert and Karen? Would she pretend that Sarah ran away? Was kidnapped? Simply disappeared? What would her father think? And what about Toby?

Toby had been Sarah's primary concern when the realization of her situation swept over her. He was only eight and terribly fond of his big sister. He was already heartbroken at her leaving. It took a lot of convincing and bargaining to calm him down. They'd worked out an arrangement where she called him at least twice a week and wrote letters. How would she react when he found out she was never coming back?

She hugged her knees closer. Linda had done a cruel thing to the whole Williams family, not just Sarah. She either hadn't thought this through or hadn't cared. Perhaps a combination of both. Closing her eyes, Sarah thought back to her mother's last words to her.

Linda had spontaneously suggested a picnic that Sunday morning. Sarah was surprised but more than willing to go along. She'd been cramped in Linda's apartment for nearly two weeks. Linda hadn't done much to accommodate Sarah either in the set up of her home or her schedule. Sarah had barely seen her and was forced to spend most days wandering, hanging out in cafes, or watching TV alone. It had been lonely and frustrating. So when Linda finally showed the smallest interest in spending time with her daughter, Sarah jumped on the opportunity.

She seemed so sincere when she apologized. It was a busy time of year, unmissable opportunities, surely Sarah could understand. Linda would make it up, starting today. They would explore the city together, starting with a picnic. She was so excited to have Sarah here, all to herself.

In an isolated corner of Central Park around four o'clock, Sarah remembered asking if they were going to find a table all the way out there since Linda failed to bring a blanket. Linda had merely waved her off, saying they'd work it out. Sarah had thought that it was odd - forgetting the blanket, packing a few bodega-bought sandwiches without even checking to see what they were, the lateness of the hour, the weird location. But she believed her mother when she said they were going to a pretty, less-known spot. That was until Linda started talking to herself. And they went more than 20 minutes of walking without seeing anyone.

They had reached a clearing when Linda stopped. "There isn't a table here, Mom," Sarah began. "Maybe we should -"

Linda had simply lifted a hand, effectively silencing her daughter. No one could say Linda Williams didn't have stage presence. Stepping forward, she spoke loudly and clearly. "I've done as you've asked. She's here."

There was no response for a moment but the rustle of leaves in a light breeze. Then the breeze grew stronger, rustling louder. Sarah looked up, expecting to see dark storm clouds. But instead, the sky was pitch black - as though night had suddenly fallen. Mist rolled out from between the trees, blanketing the clearing. She had never seen such a dramatic weather shift. Eyes wide, she opened her mouth to call for her mother.

In her distraction, Sarah was taken off guard by the sudden rough hands that swiftly pinned her arms to her back, forcing her to kneel. Soon her hands were bound, sharp edges of plastic zip ties digging into her flesh. She made to scream. A flash of light and noise stopped her.

Blinking and stumbling backward, Sarah tripped on a branch and fell back, crying out as she struck the unforgiving ground. Cold and damp seeped into her bones. Her mother, ahead of her by a few feet, was not perturbed by the change in atmosphere. She stood ramrod straight, arms outstretched. Outstretched towards a strange dark figure in the center of the clearing.

The air was cold and seemed to shimmer. Sarah wanted to scramble away but she was rooted to the ground, mobility limited by her bound arms, frozen as she stared at the scene that played out before her.

"I have brought her to you," Sarah's mother intoned. "Just as you asked. I have fulfilled my end of our bargain."

The figure glided forward soundlessly. As the smoke and shimmer settled Sarah could make out a tall male head to toe in black, with a high-collared cloak that whipped around the ankles heavy boots. His hair was a silvery mane and his eyes mismatched pools. Sarah gasped when his eyes held hers for a full second. They blazed unnaturally and sent more cold down her spine. However, he quickly moved his focus back to Linda.

This had to be a joke, right? An elaborate trick by her mother and one of her actor friends. Some kind of unorthodox "Welcome to New York." Surely, because what else could it be? Some kind of...kidnapping. Hostage situation?

"Mom," Sarah cried weakly, struggling to sit up once more. Without access to her hands, it proved difficult.

Neither he nor her mother gave her a glance.

"Just as I'd asked, Linda," he echoed. The rich timbre of his voice gave Sarah a shiver. It was strangely familiar. If she'd had to guess it was the voice of a Bond villain, the voice of the bad guy in one of those dull action blockbusters college boyfriends dragged her to. "And with minimal trouble, it would seem."

"She is young and naive," Linda sneered. "But to your liking, I think. She's yours, provided you can keep up your end of the deal."

The man smiled. "I always keep my promises. So. Your daughter for all the beauty and youth and fame you desire. I wasn't sure you'd go through with it, Linda. After all, she is your only child." He gestured to Sarah gently with one gloved hand.

Linda sniffed. "She's more Robert's child than mine. Besides, he has a new one now with that secretary he married. Now. We're even."

"We are," he purred. "When you leave this forest you'll have your heart's desires, with all of our conditions, of course." The man paused. "You can stand by this? There will be no undoing. Once I take your daughter, she is mine. The consequences will be yours to bear alone."

Linda almost seemed to hesitate. But it was only for a fraction of a second. She nodded, firmly. Grabbing the jointed area where Sarah's hands were bound, she pushed the young woman forward, all but shoving her into leaves at the man's feet. Sarah fell face-first, gasping.

She shifted forward quickly, on her knees. "Mom," she croaked. "Mom, please. Don't -"

Her mother turned, refusing to look at Sarah. She walked past, head bowed and silent. Sarah squirmed to follow, calling out. Somehow she made it back onto her feet.

"Mom, please, you can't -" Her voice rose, boarding on a scream. It echoed through the clearing, ringing through the trees.

She tripped, fell again, and was left on the ground, struggling against the zip ties that kept her so limited. Linda strode straight into the mist between the trees, still not looking back. Soon, her silhouette faded and Sarah was alone with the man.

Sarah felt a wetness on her cheeks and realized dully that she was crying. She ducked her head to her shoulder, trying to ignore the ache that was rising in her arms. The shock was swiftly setting in. It was interrupted the shadow of the man approaching.

Finally, his eyes were upon her and they were overwhelming. As he moved forward she shrank back slightly. His lips tightened at the sight of her.

Feeling challenged, Sarah fought the urge to shrink back further and jutted out her chin, hoping that despite her tears her eye could be hardened. Now simply wasn't the time for mourning. She needed to put the sorrow and fear aside and survive.

To her surprise and horror, he put a gentle gloved hand on her cheek. When she didn't move he spoke slowly. "Come."

"Where?" Her voice was still hoarse.

"Your new home."

She swallowed. "Where is that?"

She noticed that the trees were gone. It was still dark, but there were stars now, bright overhead. It was painfully quiet.

He almost smiled. Lips stretched, but there was no mirth. Merely empty and practiced motion. With a step forward he continued to hold his gloved hand out to her, lifting her easily to her feet and pulling her against his chest.

"The Underground."


	2. Chapter 2

**-XXX-**

Somewhere along the way she managed to close her eyes and fall asleep. When she woke up she was still in the oubliette and it was still dark, giving her no indication of the time or how long she'd been asleep. She thought that maybe she'd been in this place for about a day.

He'd placed her here after she'd protested. Her kidnapper did not appreciate his crimes being listed, so he simply tucked her away - to shut her up or shut her down, it was difficult to discern. He was sensitive, it seemed. It didn't start that way. He had seemed impassive at first. Expressionless. When she accepted his hand he seemed to soften towards her. But then Sarah spoke and the softness evaporated.

"Please," she started. "Please let me go home."

His eyes were obsidian. "I can't. I made a bargain with your mother."

"Yes, with my mother. Not with me. Please. You seem like a," she swallowed. "Nice, reasonable person. I didn't agree to this."

"I'm sorry, Sarah." He did look sorry, despite his hardness. "But what's done is done. The Underground is your home now."

"Please. Surely you can do something."

"Your mother and I made a bargain. We're bound to it by the magic of this land. You can't have something for nothing. Not in this world or the next."

He was still holding her hand. The leather was warm and soft. Sarah closed her eyes and attempted to withdraw her hand, but he held fast and drew her closer. The proximity drew another wave of fear, crashing down upon her. Sarah breathed deeply, trying to regain some balance over the situation. What came next? She'd tried to reason with him. He was acting as though his hands were tied.

When she opened her eyes they were no longer outside. They stood in the middle of a large room with a large fireplace on one wall and a four-poster bed on the other. Sarah stepped back quickly, the backs of her knees hitting the bed. The man stood with his back to the fire, giving him a menacing silhouette. He did not try to follow her as she moved further away. She was grateful that he wasn't pushing closer.

"Sarah," he said. "You need not worry. This is your home now. You are safe."

"I don't want to be here. I don't know where 'here' even is!" She was surprised by her own sharpness. "I want to go home."

He sighed. "You are home. The Labyrinth is your home now. Tomorrow, in the morning we can take a walk about the grounds. You can be very happy here. Please, Sarah, if you were to give this a chance -"

"No," her voice waved. "No chances. Take me home."

The man's temper was teetering close to out of control. "Sarah," he warned. "You know there is nothing that can be done."

"It seems to me that you're choosing to not help me!"

"I have done everything for you," he growled, gesturing, voice rising. His shoulders shook dangerously. "I have created all of this for you."

"I never asked for this!" She was close to shrieking now. "I never wanted any of this, I don't even know who you are or where I am and I don't want any of it."

"Very well," he roared, stalking forward. "If you don't want it you can go, you can spend some time in a place less suited for you," His voice quieted as he drew closer. Sarah shifted, widening her stance. "Perhaps...the oubliette."

The man was before her now, hands on her wrists. She caught sight of the half-moon pendant against his chest. Her eyes rose to meet his fully, mouth slightly agape before the whole room dropped away.

And she was in the oubliette. There was one small shred of light coming in from a small opening in the ceiling and little else. It seemed to come from a half-moon, so the light was thin. For a few minutes, she felt around the walls, feeling for a door or a window or something, anything that might indicate an exit. But she had no such luck. The walls were solid, unbroken stone. She was trapped, well and truly.

Sarah was thankful that she wore a sweatshirt to the park as it was cold. She took a moment to scream into the darkness before resigning herself to slumping against the wall. Sarah sank into the darkness until sleep finally took her, and when she awoke it was still dark. She wondered if this "Underworld" was trapped in night. If she was trapped in night. Was he a vampire? Was there some kind of curse upon him that made him stuck in darkness? Was she now cursed? Never to see the sun again...

Over time the light turned from stark and white to yellow and warm. Day had come, and it offered her a shred of hope. At least, she reasoned, gazing up at the slit in the ceiling, making out a shard of blue, the sun is the same here.

Why had Linda done this? And why had the strange, unearthly man agreed to go along with her scheme? Why would he want her here? He doesn't even know her, but maybe that didn't matter. Maybe he was a murder with a taste for young women. Which caused her to consider his age. He felt...older. But she could not pin what it was about him exactly, as his face was unlined and hair still fair.

" _Of all the things to waste my time thinking about."_ she chastised herself. She went back to staring up at the single ray of light. She had too many questions, too many things besides the man's age. Not that she was making any headway answering them.

After several hours, which were passed alternatively singing off-key tunes and thinking up methods of escape, she was interrupted.

A door that she had not noticed burst open, causing her to scream. The subsequent burst of yellow-y lantern light and coughing forced Sarah to stand quickly, hitting her head on the way up. She cursed loudly, leaning back against the stone. When she could refocus her eyes, they met with the suspicious gaze of a small, large-nosed man. Sarah blinked and he blinked.

"Oh," he sniffed. "It's you."

"Um, yes," Sarah replied. "Me. Did...did he send you here to get me?"

"Who?" The small man squinted at her.

"Ah…" She was again reminded that she did not know the man's name.

"The Goblin King sent me down here to fetch you," he said roughly, not willing to wait for her to come up with some elaborate description.

Goblin King? What kind of name was that? Sarah had to resist the urge to laugh. Even for a title, it bordered on ridiculous. She straightened, as much as she could in the small oubliette. "He sent you to get me?" Sarah asked. "Well, I'm not interested. I'm staying here."

He was unimpressed. "I'm to take ya, so you're comin'."

"Listen, Mr -" she paused. "I'm sorry, what is your name?"

"Hoggle," Hoggle said shortly. "Now, come along. He's waitin' and he don't take kindly to being made to wait very long."

"I..."

"C'mon! I don't have all day."

He turned and made his way down the newly appeared corridor. Sarah, sensing a bid for freedom, followed. They walked along a narrow passage of stone that started rough and cave-like and turned into more refine stonework as they moved on, never passing a window or door or threshold to another hallway. It felt like a long time before they finally came upon a massive hall. And straight across from the threshold was him, sitting in an imposing, throne-esque chair. There were flicking sconces and faded tapestries upon the walls. It looked like a room straight out of the Middle Ages. Sarah had to control the impulse to crane her neck to look upwards at the ceiling. Instead, she put all of her focus into crossing the gleaming marble floor with some shred of dignity despite her disheveled, dusty, sweaty appearance and immense fear.

He appeared bored, lounging in the steel-and-bone construction, like a great leather and velvet-covered cat. With his wild hair, he reminded her a little of a lion. In one gloved hand, he rolled a crystal quartz ball. Effortlessly, it danced between his fingers. The globe caught Sarah's eye before he moved it, drawing her gaze up to his mismatched orbs. They were impassive. Yet she felt compelled to keep looking.

"Sarah," he drawled. "I'm so happy you've elected to join us. I hope you had a restful evening in my oubliette. I hope you'll decide this evening you will grace our guest suite instead."

She did not respond. He lifted a brow and then stood up from the throne, crossing to stand before her. Sarah simply waited. She didn't want to give him the reaction he wanted, even though her stomach felt like it was full of Jell-O.

He dropped the arrogant persona with every step until he was in front of her, eyes, and body language gentle. "We started on the wrong foot yesterday. I wish to amend this, Sarah. I know this came as shock. I want to help you. You must have many questions."

His words were warm and reassuring. Sarah wanted to believe him. But a cord of distrust was pulled taut in her stomach. She hesitated. The Goblin King seized the moment - and her hand.

"Sarah, please." His eyes were wide.

"I-" She took a breath. "I don't even know your name."

He laughed. "That one is easy. Jareth"

A name did not exactly put Sarah at-ease, but she felt a little better about letting him lead her to a gorgeous courtyard.

**-XXX-**


	3. Chapter 3

**-XXX-**

She had not seen daylight since they entered the clearing yesterday, so she blinked heavily when they stepped outside. The greenery was manicured, but not overly so. The stone floor gave way to soft gravel and even softer grass. Sarah reached out to brush the leaf of a nearby hydrangea bush and noticed the Goblin King - Jareth - looking at her. She looked back without flinching. He bowed his head slightly, conceding, but kept his eyes locked onto hers.

"You must wonder why you are here."

"I take it that my mother made some kind of 'firstborn' deal," Sarah replied dryly. "For beauty or wealth or whatever."

"Correct." He tilted his head, owlishly. "Specifically youth and a second chance at fame."

Sarah pressed her lips together tightly. Of course, Linda would bet the daughter she likely blamed her failure to find fame on. She so blamed Sarah she had staked Sarah's life on it. "Why? Surely there was something else she could bargain. I'm not like, a baby. I'm a self-aware adult."

"Well," Jareth said with a casual air. "She did make the bargain when you were a baby. Or, at least, fairly young. Shortly before she left you."

Sarah gaped. "She did this years ago?"

"I believe you were around the age of seven. Very precocious, if I remember."

"She's my _mom."_ She shook her head. "Why me? Why couldn't you accept something else? I'm a twenty-two-year-old with a useless bachelors of arts. I'm not valuable for anything except my liberal arts perspective."

He strolled forward a bit, pausing to inspect a lemon tree. Sarah waited, hands on her hips. Her emotions were bouncing between frustration and sorrow. It was surprising that he was so forthcoming; she would expect any normal captor to be withholding and perhaps a touch more antagonistic, but thus far he was just being mildly intimidating.

"There are rules," he said simply. "A person cannot ask for a wish so big and not bargain something of equal or greater value. You are equal or greater value."

Uncertain of how to reply, Sarah couldn't speak. Moving slowly she followed him down the path, fingers outstretched to touch the bushes. Emotions swirled in her chest, battling for supremacy. Frustration, anger, hurt, and fear all mixed. Her mother - the person who was supposed to protect and cherish her more than anyone - had betrayed her. Had ultimately traded her for the most trivial of wants. To a man - god - thing, she knew nothing of, whom she (if she were being honest with herself) feared.

They completed one lap of the courtyard before she spoke again. "What do you plan on doing with me?"

Jareth seemed prepared for the question. He took a breath before answering, gaze never straying from the fountain before him. "Marry you."

This stopped Sarah in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"This is why I did not accept you as a child."

Sarah shook her head. Part of her was tempted to laugh. But it did not feel funny. She settled on lifting a hand to shield her eyes as she gazed up at him. "I'm sorry, but I believe you're mistaken. I'm not the type of person to stand idly by while they're married off against their will."

To her surprise, he smiled easily. "No, I did not expect that. But as I said, there are rules. When your mother came to me we both needed things that the other had."

"And you needed an unwilling girl?"

Jareth was patient, but she could tell it was taking an effort to restrain himself. His temper was like hers, hot and fast. The leather of his glove made a soft noise as he clenched his fist. "No, a willing wife."

"Then you came to the wrong place."

He sighed, folding his hands together. Today the gloves were a dove grey. The pendant was nestled in the crest of his throat, behind the ruffles of his white shirt. On anyone else, the shirt would be ridiculous - pirate-esque and frilly. Somehow, paired with the purple vest and black pants, it worked. She was vaguely reminded of Prince. But in a good way.

"The laws of this land dictate that there be a queen." His brows rose. " _I_ need a queen. You are an excellent candidate. You are strong and smart, you have many qualities that I admire, qualities that are desirable in a partner and queen."

Speechless, Sarah shook her head. "You don't even know me. I mean, my best qualities are being able to recite poetry off the top of my head and make box mac n' cheese taste like it didn't come from a box. Those aren't exactly in the queenly skillset."

Jareth bowed his head again. "This is a shock, I know. I can be patient. I _have_ been patient."

She scoffed, throwing up her hands. "Well, Goblin King, patience isn't going to resolve this. You're effectively telling me you're that I've been tricked into some kind of arranged marriage. My life is some kind of bridewealth for my mother's vanity. And my family…"

Sarah's voice broke. The weight of her newfound fate crashed down upon her. Gloved hands reached for her but she broke free, moving backwards down the gravel path, kicking up small stones as she skid.

"I can't do this. Please. You have to let me go home. You _have_ to let me go -"

As though someone flipped a switch, Jareth's entire mood darkened. He descending upon her, matching her every step with menacing energy. "I cannot take you back," he spat. "There are rules. Besides, it would be pointless. No one remembers you now. The second you came down here you were forgotten by everyone in the Above. No one in your family would remember you. You'd be a stranger to them - to Toby, to your father, your friends. You'd be a shadow of a real person, as good as dead."

"What?" The tears were stinging her cheeks. "No. No, you're lying!"

"They will not spend a single second of the rest of their lives thinking of you," he hissed.

"That's not fair!" She shook her head. "I never asked for this, it's not fair."

He laughed at this, moving close until his chest brushed hers. His face was very close, nose tip nearly touching her nose tip. The voice he used was very terrifyingly soft. With delicate precision, he spoke slowly. "Wherever did you get the notion that life was fair?"

At that, Sarah fled. She turned down the path and hightailed it to the threshold, running through the dim corridors, not stopping until she found the first door that granted her entry. Thankfully it yielded to her effortlessly. Sarah was so out of breath she spent the first few seconds pressed against the door, eyes closed, inhaling. When she opened her eyes, she nearly fainted at the sight of the room before her.

**-XXX-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been cleaning these up from the FF.net copies and adding a little more here and there. So if you read them on there they might read slightly differently, but not in any major ways.


	4. Chapter 4

**-XXX-**

It was the same room he'd brought her to last night - presumably his room. Sarah cursed silently in her head, turning to reach for the door, fully intent on finding another room. What greeted her was solid stone. The door was gone, replaced by a wall. Her curses went from silent to verbal and loud.

With nothing left to do she faced the room at large. In the daylight, it was somewhat less imposing. The fire was out and there were a number of vases filled with fresh flowers - orange blossoms and peonies. The bed in the center of the room was a massive four-poster, gilded, and hung with sheer white curtains. Heavier sky blue velvet drapes framed the arched windows. Candles were on the mantle, spread across the marble-topped tables, infusing the air with the light scent of vanilla. In one corner sat a plush armchair with a fuzzy grey throw. Against another wall was a narrow writing desk. A tall bookshelf dominated the opposite wall, though it only contained a few leather-bound books.

She slowly stepped into the room. Maybe...this wasn't his room. As she moved towards the bed, an ivory-colored slip of paper on the topmost pillow caught her eye. In a spidery script was her name - _Sarah._

Hesitating a moment, she elected to snatch it up. She broke the scarlet seal and unfolded it slowly.

" _Sarah -_

_I know all of this change is scary for you. I've built this suite for you. It is entirely yours - change it if you wish - and know that you can always find solace here. This is your home now. I want you to be happy._

_If you need me, I'm only a word away. "_

He must have placed it earlier, before their second confrontation. Sarah dropped it on the nightstand. She suddenly felt very weary. Crawling into bed, she noticed her reflection in the mirror that sat on the mantel. Her eyes were red and puffy, cheeks shiny with tears. The sight nearly sent her back to crying, but instead, she took a deep breath. Settling into the duvet, she lay back against the pillows. They were goosedown, a few feather tips poked her.. He didn't skimp, she had to hand that to him.

With a deep sigh, she curled up and allowed herself to drift off once again.

-XXX-

When she woke the light streaming in through the windows was golden with the lateness of the day. Afternoon was here and so, she realized with a pang in her gut, was her appetite. Sarah couldn't remember the last time she ate. The door she'd entered through was still gone. When she wandered through the two doors tucked behind the fireplace she found a bathroom and a closet. Nothing that resembled food. Returning to the bedroom, Sarah sunk into the armchair. "What's a girl got to do to get a bite to eat around here?"

" _Marry a Goblin King, probably."_

Did he intend on starving her until she submitted to his will? That left out the option of a hunger strike, anyway.

Her musing were interrupted by a popping noise. The door had reappeared and it swung open forcefully. Sarah rose instinctively, expecting an angry Goblin King. Instead, she was met with a small, scrappy-looking goblin. At least, she assumed it was a goblin. It was short, with grey-ish brown skin, long spidery fingers, and pointed ears. The straw-like hair was topped with a white bonnet, and she wore a yellow dress and white apron. Sarah stared at her.

"Dinner is waiting for you, miss," she announced in a high-pitched voice. "If you will follow me. Unless you would wish to dress, first." She eyed Sarah's jeans and sweatshirt distastefully.

"Um, sure," Sarah said. "Can I uh, have a minute?"

"I can help you dress, miss."

"Oh, uh, that's okay."

The small goblin shook her head. "I was sent to help you, miss, it is no trouble."

Sarah found herself being lead to the closet. As ornate as her surroundings were she was happy to see that the clothes in her closet were relatively low-key. Certainly more formal than she was used to - more dresses than pants, not a scrap of denim in sight - but it wasn't wall-to-wall silk and satin, and only a few fluffy-puffy ballgowns. The goblin's long fingers landed briefly on a white gossamer ballgown with massive sleeves and beaded pearl applique. It reminded Sarah of Karen's wedding gown. She shook her head immediately and they moved on to the sage-colored day dress. It was linen, with nearly no puff and simple fabric-covered buttons lining the back.

"Thank you," she managed as the goblin finished with the buttons and moved to braiding her hair. "Sorry, I feel awful, I don't know your name."

"Meldy, miss," the goblin said. "I'm your lady's maid."

"Oh." Sarah did not know exactly what that meant and she was too embarrassed to ask.

Once deemed acceptable, Meldy led her down the corridor, then shooed her into a circular room of windows and columns containing a long table laden with enough dishes for a full dinner party. There were two chairs on one end. Sarah lingered at the threshold.

"Is someone joining me?" she asked cautiously.

"Indeed," a baritone answered. As if by magic Jareth appeared beside the fireplace dominating the furthest end of the room. He crossed with a solid swagger, unconcerned with the anger radiating off of her. Sarah just stared at him coldly as he drew out a chair for her at the head of the table. "Thank you for your help, Meldy. You may go."

With bow and pop, the goblin vanished with a small _"pop"._ She had a small smile on her face that made Sarah uneasy, though not as uneasy at Jareth's tranquil smile. After their last encounter, she had not anticipated him to be in such a mood. 

"Sarah, please join me."

With few options left to her, Sarah edged into the room. Jareth was patient. Though it took her an extensive period of time to move forward he just stood there with a gentle smile plastered on his chiseled face smiling. When she finally sat he took his own place beside her.

"The soup may be a little chilled by now," he said with a hint of humor. "But it should still be good."

Sarah nodded, picking up her soup spoon, and tasting the green mixture. Split pea, not bad, and only a little cold. Next was a small Caesar salad. And then, to her surprise -

"Pizza?"

Jareth smirked proudly. "My chefs are adept at Aboveworld cuisine. This is one of my favorites. I don't think it will surprise you to know that receiving delivery down here is rather difficult at best."

The pineapple-bacon thin crust was delicious and she had two pieces before settling back to sip her wine. Most of the meal she spent avoiding the Goblin King's gaze, but now with no food to distract, she could no longer evade his eyes.

"That was very good," she said quietly. "Thank you."

"I'm pleased." Jareth brushed his mouth with his linen napkin. "It has taken them a while to understand the proper sauce-cheese ratio. I had to bring a few 'pies' as you call them for the chef to get the picture."

"I would have never guessed you were a pizza fanatic."

At this, he laughed. "I wouldn't say a casual appreciation is a fascination. I merely wanted to enjoy a few Above delicacies without the trouble of having to leave my home or come up with your currency."

He sounded vaguely like a high school friend's father when he spent a summer building his own brick oven in the backyard next to their forgotten swingset. Just a casual appreciation didn't merit such work. Sarah smiled at the memory, fiddling with the edge of her own napkin. The comforts of home had relaxed her marginally.

"It was a welcome surprise."

Jareth smiled and sipped his own wine. He gestured to the expanse of windows "Shall we enjoy the view as we wait for our dessert?"

She followed him to the windows, bringing her wine.

The view was spectacular. The sunset cast a watercolor of pinks and gold across the landscape. From what she could infer, they were on a hill that overlooked a humble village of squat thatched cottages contained in a thick sandstone fortress. Beyond the tall walls were more walls, cast to and fro for miles and miles. A veritable puzzle, on a massive scale. It was more than a garden hedge maze.

Something he said when he first brought her here rose up from her memory. " _The Labyrinth is your home now."_ It was Labyrinth. She'd not really thought much about the name. But here it was, snarls of wall twisting towards the castle. But for what cause?

Jareth swirled his wine glass as he gazed out across what she assumed was his kingdom. This was the longest period of time she'd ever seen him calm.

She hesitated before speaking again. "I wanted to thank you, my room is...very lovely."

"You're welcome. I wanted you to be comfortable. I hope it suits your needs." He paused. "Now that we are both calm, I would like to apologize for my behavior, Sarah. You must understand, I have spent a long time awaiting you. There was a picture in my head of how this would go and...it did not go as planned for a number of reasons. I didn't account for the idea that you might be anything less than content. Confused, scared, yes. But I'd hope maybe once you knew you were safe..."

Jareth sighed, laying gloved hands upon the sill. "I was delusional. The picture in my head was not a realistic one. And when the picture did not meet up to reality, I behaved poorly. I treated you poorly. I wish to apologize and I hope that you will forgive me."

His honesty shocked her. Sarah was quiet for several moments, processing. A clean slate would be a good start. Yet she wasn't about to excuse his actions - at least, the kidnapping-related ones. Still, she felt like her fate was sealing quickly; going home was no longer an option if he was to be believed. And Sarah, despite her general mistrust of the Goblin King, she believed him when he said she could not return, that his hands were tied.

"I understand," she said slowly. "And I appreciate your struggle. I think I can forgive you in time. I just...I don't understand. You talk about these 'rules.' Rules that say you have to trade me for my mother's vanity. Rules that say this place must have a queen. What are they? Why must you abide by them?"

He was calm. "They are difficult to explain, Sarah. But please, believe me when I say they are serious."

"Please, I just wish to understand." She accented her desperation slightly. "It would help me forgive you if I just understood."

He saw through the ploy, but he was also desperate. "It is a very ancient pact made with this land. There must be a queen. I have waited a long time to fulfill this requirement, and it would be for the best if we were to move forward."

It was not a satisfying answer. She accepted it - for now.

"Can we….work something out?" Her negotiation skills were lacking, despite Robert's coaching over the years through trials at car dealerships and job interviews. "I'm not ready for all of that. I'm no one's queen. I've never even been, like, a manager. I can't imagine being married and in charge of a country."

"You would not be alone." His eyes were alight, locking on to hers. His plea was strong, not soft and vulnerable like hers. "I would be there to guide you. I've done this for so long, Sarah, and with my help, I know you could be a skilled monarch."

His impassioned offers were sinking her. Scrambling, she offered him perspective. "Please, this is all happening so quickly. I just need more time to get used to being here without talk of ruling or marriage. You must understand."

Jareth was mildly deflated, but he couldn't resist even the barest of olive branches. He nodded. Time was bought, though she knew not how long. Silence resumed for several long seconds.

"I think I can think about forgiving you," Sarah said finally, keeping her eyes on the setting sun. "If it will give us a fresh start. I'd like that."

The smile he offered was almost tangible - the whole room was affected by his changed countenance. He extended a few fingers to her. Sarah accepted them and they continued to watch the sunset until they sank into darkness with only a sliver of pink on the horizon.


	5. Chapter 5

-XXX-

Fresh white morning light streaming in through sheer curtains roused Sarah the next morning, along with the welcoming scent of butter and chocolate. Breakfast was set up on a tray next to the armchair. A silken robe and slippers waited for her at the foot of the bed. She slipped them on before floating over to her breakfast of hot chocolate, buttered toast, and a bowl of glistening blackberries.

She mused over her cocoa. Life without a phone or computer was difficult. She was used to staying on her phone during the quiet moments. It was not an unbearable absence, but she did miss having some kind of distraction.

Meldy appeared shortly after she finished her meal, perfectly timed. She drew Sarah a bath, leaving her to soak as she went to the wardrobe to select an outfit and press it. The heavy steam of rosemary and lavender that perfumed the bathroom nearly sent Sarah into a doze, but Meldy returned just in time. As the goblin combed her hair Sarah found the chance to ask a few questions. The act of being served upon was awkward enough, and the silence only amplified the awkwardness.

"How long have you worked for the Goblin King, Meldy?" she asked casually, stroking one of the ribbons that Meldy had laid out for her hair.

"Nearly my whole life," the small maid answered shortly.

Sarah almost winced but decided to forge onward.

"Do you serve any other...er, ladies?"

"Just the king."

"Do you like working here?"

"The Goblin King is a good and kind master." For the first time, Meldy sounded vaguely emotional. "He has done much for myself and my family."

"He does seem kind." Sarah tried to meet her eyes, smiling. "What is your family like?"

The goblin seemed to suppress a sigh. "I have two daughters and a son. My husband maintains the king's kitchen."

"He's a chef?"

Pride crept into Meldy's voice. "Yes. He makes pastries."

"I would love to try them."

Meldy did not answer. She kept combing Sarah's hair then artfully arranged it at the base of her neck. The comb had somehow dried her hair with each passing stroke, and her mane felt soft and light. She led Sarah to the closet and let her look over the options for the day - a grey day dress, a belted blue tunic with fawn leggings, or a paprika-colored silk gown. Sarah chose a safe blue tunic.

As Meldy helped Sarah navigate putting on the shirt, Sarah asked, "What is there to do around here? Can I like….I don't know, clean or anything? I can sew, a little."

The goblin practically snorted. "No, miss. You are not meant for scrubbing floors. The master would have my skin if he caught you doing any kind of housework."

"Surely there must be something."

The goblin shrugged. "There is the gardens. You could browse the portrait gallery."

"What about the uh, village, er, town? The one at the base of the castle?"

"Oh no." Meldy frowned as she dug through a draw of socks. "The king would not allow you to go down there. At least, not unaccompanied."

Sarah nearly asked why, but the goblin distracted her with a selection of boots. The shoes reminded her of her clothes. Meldy had removed them last night after Sarah slipped into the bath, and Sarah had not seen them since. When she inquired, the goblin said only that she sent them to be laundered.

"Here miss, I'll take your watch and earrings, too." Meldy unclasped the digital watch, setting it on the counter of the vanity. "I have some jewelry that would suit you better, today."

Sarah begged off. Once dressed, the maid shooed Sarah from the suite, saying it needed to be cleaned. She directed Sarah to the gardens. With nothing else to do, Sarah went.

It was not the same courtyard she'd experienced yesterday. This garden was far more expansive with manicured hedges, ivy-draped trellises, and bubbling fountains. Sarah wandered the rose garden, then explored a terra cotta pavilion dripping with lilacs and lined with tulips. Peonies lined another walkway leading to a mossy collection of pools. Sarah Williams was not a botanist, but she suspected some of the blossoms were not of the same seasons.

She greeted the goldfish that paced one of the shallow ponds with a wiggle of fingers. Just as she was stooping to examine them further a noise startled her, nearly sending her into the water.

It was a stout gentleman who was peeing into the nearby pond. Sarah rolled her eyes at the sight. The fellow jumped, cursed, and after a bit of buttoning, turned around with a beet-red face. It was Hoggle.

"Oh, it's you," he grunted.

Brows raised, Sarah greeted him. "Mr. Hoggle."

"Just Hoggle."

"I'm Sarah," she reminded him.

"That's what I thought," he said, unimpressed. "You're all Sarah."

Sarah dismissed the cryptic words. "What're you doing here?"

"Just wandering." She gazed past him to observe the series of pools. "This is an impressive - oh my!"

A glimmering creature was hovering near the ivy-covered wall. It was larger than your average insect by several inches - though perhaps the same size as one of those terrifying Amazonian bugs. From what Sarah could tell it had a vaguely humanoid shape. It was buzzing near some flowers, and...humming a tune?

"What is that thing?"

Hoggle swung 'round to follow her finger. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the gossamer creature. "Fairy," he grunted.

Sarah noted his hand resting on a funny contraption attached to his belt. It reminded her of an old-fashioned bee smoker with an accordion bit attached to a can and a teapot-esque spout. Without another word, Hoggle approached the fairy slowly, withdrawing the smoker, stepping toes-first. Sarah tentatively followed, curious.

When he had the fairy cornered he pumped the smoker, sending a puff of yellow fumes towards the small creature, which let out a cry and promptly fainted. Sarah echoed the fairy's cry and dove to pick it up. "Hoggle!" she scolded. "How could you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Shows what you know. Them fairies are pests. Have a nasty -"

"Ow!" Sarah cried. "It bit me!"

Indeed it had. The fairy, now awake, smile with tiny sharp teeth before pushing its way out of Sarah's grasp, fluttering off again with a wave. Sarah clutched at the injury. With a sigh, Hoggle rummaged through the pouch on his belt until he found a clean piece of cotton, handing it to her. Sarah thanked him as she wrapped it around the bite.

"They're pests, and it's my job to clear the gardens of them. You just let that one fly off, shows what you know." He placed his gnarled hands on his hips. "For all their glitter and prettiness they're a heap of trouble - just like you."

Sarah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Hoggle merely grunted, hiked up his pants, and strode away. She continued behind him, unwilling to end the interaction. He was keen to evade her, deliberately taking winding, narrow paths. But Sarah was determined.

"So, is that your job? Hunt fairies? Besides rescuing prisoners from oubliettes, I mean."

"I'm the groundskeeper," he said shortly, pushing back the curtain of willow branches they were passing through. He did not have the courtesy to hold them back for Sarah.

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"I look after the grounds."

"Yes, but what do you do? Does that include, like, mowing the law?"

"Mowing the lawn?" Hoggle scoffed. "We have goats for that. Mow the lawn, ha."

"Well, what else?"

He sighed. "I tend to the ends-and-outs. Maintenance, pruning, cleaning the fountains, caring for the greenhouses, the vegetables….all of it."

"You've done a very good job." Sarah smiled. They were in a less manicured, less constructed part now. It felt more like a forest. There was a small stream with unkempt moss and reeds along with it. They were approaching a rickety-looking bridge that fit right in with the untamed scenery. "It looks like a gorgeous garden."

"It is a gorgeous garden, and it'll stay that way. The king was kind enough to let me stay here, and I won't have nuffin' ruin the landscape -"

Sarah blinked. "I wasn't -"

But they were interrupted by a yowl. "Rrrrruffins!"

They turned to the small fox that had landed before them, blocking the entrance to the old bridge. His fluffy tail was swishing anxiously, though not nearly as anxiously as the sheep down that coward behind him. The fox bared his pointed teeth brandishing a small sword that almost resembled a child's plaything, except it was visibly sharp.

"What have we here, two bickering knaves! I have sworn to the Goblin King Jareth, First of his Name, that no one shall cross this bridge without my permission!"

Hoggle did not appear particularly troubled by the fox's hostile tone. If anything, he looked bored.

"Didymus, I've told ya a thousand times. I can come and go as I please, I'm the grounds keeper."

"Yes, but what of her!" The sword swung to point towards Sarah, who edged back. "Who is this?"

Hoggle was rubbing his temples. "It's Sarah."

The fox's black eyes widened significantly. His head bobbed with excitement, nearly tossing of his extravagantly feathered hat. "The Sarah?" He sank into a hasty bow. "My lady! Please forgive my impertinence."

"You're uh, fine," Sarah assured him, stooping to his level. "Seriously. Please, stop bowing. It sounds like you were just doing your job." In the background, she heard Hoggle scoff. She ignored him. "What's your name?"

"Sir Didymus," he replied eagerly. "I am the knight assigned to this region of the kingdom. It was a great honor placed upon me by his highness, Goblin King Jareth."

Hoggle shook his head. "Some honor," he murmured. "Seems like only failures get assigned to stay home."

The fox's whiskers quivered. "If I were any less of a gentleman, I would say perhaps being kicked out of one's clan and forced into the Goblin Kingdom is not something particularly honorable for a dwarf."

Hoggle's cheeks flared bright red. He sputtered. Sarah quickly shifted between the two. "You must both be very special to the Goblin King. He is very lucky to have your, er, loyalty."

"Indeed!" This seemed to cheer Sir Didymus. "Is Mr. Hoggle showing you the gardens, Lady Sarah?"

"I'm trying to do my job. She keeps following me."

"Well, my lady you must let us guide you! There is a lovely lake just past the bridge and down the trail, near the apple orchard."

"I would like that," Sarah said, grinning. "Will, your dog come with us?"

"My steed? Indeed!" He whistled. "Ambrosius!"

They all made their way down the path, Hoggle grumbling all the way. When the lake came into view, Sarah gasped.

It was an almost perfect reflection of the lake her parents took her to on weekends. The water was different - it was so clear you could see to the bottom, except in the deepest part. Cattails and willows and plum trees lined the clay bank. The breeze was fragrant with honeysuckle.

She could practically see the three of them on the threadbare blue blanket with their picnic basket. Their Saturdays at the lake were one of the few happy times she could remember from her childhood. Linda, who could barely cook, made deviled eggs and Robert always bought fancy cream sodas in real glass bottles. One time they had a kite, which lasted nearly an hour before Sarah crashed it into a tree. From then on out they stuck to bubbles.

After the divorce, Sarah and Robert went one more time alone, then once with Karen. They stopped after Robert and Karen married - Karen didn't like the outdoors, and she was scared of the dragonflies that skimmed the surface of the water. Sarah missed going, but she soon learned to stop asking.

God, she hadn't thought about that lake in years.

"My lady? Are you alright?"

She looked down at Sir Didymus, realizing that her cheeks were wet. "Oh, uh. Yeah."

He was sympathetic. "Would you like to sit, my lady?"

"I would like that very much."

-XXX-


	6. Chapter 6

**-XXX-**

When Sarah's stomach grumbled they snatched a few apples from the orchard. Didymus ate three in a row to Sarah's surprise. He did not seem the least bit troubled when any normal creature would surely have a stomach ache. Hoggle refused apples and instead ate jerky from one of his many pouches and grumbled about needing to do work. He never left them, though.

They stayed at the lake until the sun started to approach the western horizon. Hoggle reluctantly led her back to the door of the castle.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" Sarah said cheerfully, waving as she approached the door. He murmured something under his breath. She didn't stop to investigate. He was going to come 'round.

She somehow found her way back to her suite. Meldy was there waiting for her with a bowl of beef stew, crusty brown bread, and a glass of red wine. The goblin helped Sarah undress and listen to her talk about her day. The goblin wasn't very chatty, but regardless Sarah was grateful for the company.

When the sun finally set Sarah curled up in bed with one of the books she found on the mantle. It was a gothic romance set in France. The flowery language was not exactly Sarah's cup of tea but paired with a cup of chamomile it soon sent her into sleep.

The next morning started much like the first - soft light and a light breakfast, followed by a bath and a meeting with Meldy in the wardrobe. With nothing else to do she made her way to the gardens. Didymus was waiting for her, and Hoggle was not too far behind. Today Didymus suggested they show her the butterfly garden.

Sarah soon found herself covered in butterflies, attempting to hold very very still against the ticklish feeling of legs and wings brushing her skin. Meldy had offered her a long-sleeved blouse with slits in the arm, and Sarah was starting to regret the choice. Didymus had a pair of brilliant black butterflies on his ears. Hoggle was eyeing all of the insects with suspicion.

She wished she knew the names of the butterflies. Toby was enthralled with insects and seem to know the names - both common and scientific - by heart. They used to spend weekends on Sarah's summer break at the butterfly house and the local science museum. His science fair project last year had something to do with maggots and decomposition, which certainly grossed Karen out, but it won him third place.

The reminder of her family caused Sarah's mood to sink. She wanted to go back to her room and creature a cocoon and cry.

Her thoughts were broken by a loud growling moan. " _Did I make that?"_

When it happened a second time Sarah was reassured that she had not embarrassed herself. It was relatively close.

"My lady." Sir Didymus was at her elbow suddenly, furry brows furrowed. "You ought to retreat. Allow myself and Hoggle to investigate."

"What? No, I'll come with you." She glanced at Hoggle, who was edging away. "Do you know what it could be?"

"I have my theories, but I don't see why we need to go poking our nose into it," he said with some irritation. "Best we keep to ourselves."

Sarah's eyes grew wide. "Are there dangerous things here?"

"'Course there are! There are dangerous things everywhere. Now, let's get a move on!"

"Certainly not!" Sir Didymus puffed out his white-streaked chest, tail whipping behind him furiously. "I am a knight of the Goblin Kingdom! We do not retreat in the face of danger."

"I'm not going to let you go alone," Sarah said quickly. "C'mon. Let's go."

Hoggle took some prodding, but he reluctantly followed. He grumbled the whole way. Sarah ignored him, walking beside Didymus, who had brandished his sword. He quivered slightly, though with excitement or fear she couldn't tell. The moaning growl intensified. They carried on, regardless.

Finally, they rounded a corner and they were face-to-face with the maker of the noise.

It was a hulking beast with matted red fur, floppy ears, and curved horns. It slouched on two stout legs. Yellowed teeth framed a wide mouth that was open with yet another howl. Big, flat black eyes blinked aimlessly in pain. That's when Sarah noticed it - the shiny metal around one of the creature's feet. A trap.

"Hoggle, is that yours?" she asked, pointing.

The dwarf narrowed his eyes, trying to follow her finger. When he spotted the trap, he visibly paled. "Yes. I placed a few around to trap a few of the doxies. They're non-fatal, just...uncomfortable."

"It's hurt!" Sarah whispered. "We should help him."

Hoggle spluttered. "What? No! It'll eat us! Rock-callers are not to be reasoned with!"

"Rock-callers?"

"They're creatures that roam this land. They summon rocks with their call," Sir Didymus explained in a hushed tone. Almost as though prompted, the Rock-caller made another noise and a number of boulders lept forward several feet. "Like that."

"Are they, like, vicious or something?"

"Well, er, no. They're just rather intimidating. I've never actually encountered one myself."

"Okay then," Sarah said, straightening. "Let's go."

Hoggle made a noise of complaint, but Didymus dragged him out. Sarah didn't look back, merely strode forward towards the creature. When the Rock-caller spotted her he began whimpering. Sarah edged forward once was she relatively close. She spoke in a soft voice, hands outstretched.

"You're okay, you're okay…I just want to help you." She eased forward, glancing down at his foot. "That hurts, right?"

The creature made a sad noise, shifting slightly. "Hurt," it moaned.

"I know," Sarah said sympathetically. She hadn't anticipated it having the capacity to speak. "What's your name?"

"Lu-do," the creature said.

"Hi, Ludo. Can I see your foot?"

He whimpered, but let Sarah approach. She stooped and set to work. It took a bit of fiddling, a few anxious cries of pain from Ludo, but she eventually unset it and the Rock-caller was free.

"Lu-do free!" he cried.

"So you are!" Sir Didymus had joined Sarah, beaming. "Thanks to Lady Sarah!"

"Sarwah?" Ludo said, looking at her. His eyes were more liquid than flat black now.

"Yes, my friend." The fox bowed. "And Sir Didymus, and Grounds Keeper Hoggle at your service. "

"Hello," Ludo replied simply. He seemed like a creature of few words. For a moment they all simply stared at one another before Sarah cleared her throat tentatively.

"Ludo, do you like butterflies?

-XXX-

A shadow fell across her book. Sarah glanced up, blinking back the light. Jareth loomed above her, head cocked with interest.

"Sarah," he said simply by way of greeting.

"Hello," she replied. It had been three days since they'd had dinner. She was wondering when she'd see him again. He had established himself so that it was very difficult for her to reach him - not that she'd made any effort. Their last conversation left them in a better place, but Sarah Williams was still very wary of the Goblin King.

"What are you doing?"

She lifted up the book with a small wave. "Reading."

"A perfectly acceptable pastime. May I?" He gestured to the patch of ground next to her. She nodded, shifting slightly to accommodate him. With as much grace as anyone could muster, she sank to the earth beside her. It turned out to be a lot of grace, Sarah observed with only a hint of bitterness. He looked regal, even in the dirt.

"How are you transitioning? Are you settling well?"

"Well enough." She tucked a ribbon between the pages of her novel. It was the same one she'd started a few nights ago. "I cannot say that I am finding it easy to stay occupied. I think I've walked the gardens at least eight times now. Next, I think I might take on your giant maze."

"Labyrinth," he corrected with a reserved smile. "And I would prefer you didn't. I have no doubt it would best you easily and I would have to tend to your bruise ego."

Sarah made an indignant noise, crossing her arms.

Jareth laughed. "I apologize, but I only speak the truth. She would beat you in mere hours."

"We'll see."

"What's this about you lacking an occupation?"

"I'm getting a little bored," she admitted. "Meldy wasn't open to the idea of letting me do some housework. This is one of three books I've found in my room. I've hung out with Hoggle and Sir Didymus and Ludo, but I don't want to overwhelm them."

"You've been spending time with the rock caller and my groundskeeper? And the fox knight?" He was amused.

"It's not like there are many others around for companionship." Sarah shrugged. "They're really nice, actually. I would just appreciate something else. Surely you didn't bring me down here without something in mind."

"Hm. I did, but I anticipated bringing a queen into my fold," he said delicately. "Not a peasant."

She nudged him. For a second the Goblin King stiffened, but after he realized the intention behind her motion he relaxed. As a king, she realized, he probably wasn't used to being touched so casually. In fact, he seemed very isolated.

"I hardly think I am a peasant," she said dryly.

"I'll allow gentlewoman."

"How generous."

"Yes, I think so," he sniffed.

"So, what did you have in mind?" Sarah pressed. "If I were to be queen?"

"That's confidential. However, I think I have something that might fit for a bored gentlewoman." He rose - with twice as much grace as he'd displayed sinking to the ground - and extended a hand. Sarah avoided it, rising of her own volition. Jareth smirked. He raised a hand to snatch a peach from a branch overhead, offering it to her. This Sarah accepted, despite her usual aversion to them -- thanks to finding a worm in one in her youth.

"Are these trees always in season?" she asked, sinking her teeth into the sweet flesh.

"Yes, always. And the flowers constantly bloom, year-round." He began his way down the row. The shadows of tree trunks rolling over him in the golden afternoon light gave him a very dramatic look. Sarah ducked her head and followed. Jareth continued. "It is remarkably different from how plants behave in the Above. I believe it has something to do with your 'seasons.'"

"You don't have seasons down here?"

"Not in the same way, no. It is almost always like this, though we certainly have rain. Other regions have snow and consistent cold. Others are rainy and hot. We're almost always temperate."

Sarah considered this. "How big is this place? The...Underground?"

Jareth laughed. "That is an impossible question."

The peach was done, so she pocketed the pit. Meldy would not be pleased to find it later.

He led her down a series of corridors. The further they moved inside the castle, the more decorative it became. The sconces were suddenly more ornate, tapestries and formal oil portraits covered the stone walls, and soon finely woven rugs lined the cold floors. Sarah was distracted by one of the landscapes featuring large, winged horses when Jareth stopped before a set of double doors.

"I would ask that you be careful in here. It is very beloved to me," he said. "I do not share it with most people."

With that, he opened the doors.

**-XXX-**


	7. Chapter 7

**-XXX-**

Sarah nearly hurt her neck as she craned it attempting to grasp how large the library was. There were at least five levels, hundreds of shelves, and thousands of books. Skylights beamed down warm light. She tripped on the rug because she was so distracted by the sheer size of it. There were massive oak tables and winged armchairs and stained glass reading lamps and gilded leather books. For a private library, it was enormous. For any library, it was decadent.

"You're a student at heart, I think," he said from across the room. He was calm, observing her reaction with an impassive expression. "This is open to your use, however, you see fit. I believe there is much to learn about the Underground and this would be a suitable start. There is a large section of history and culture on the third floor. Once you've absorbed an appropriate amount, you can move on to languages. High Fey would be an excellent goal after you reach proficiency in Dwarvish and Elvish. If you find yourself needing some supplementary topics, we do have a curated selection of manuals of courtly traditions. "

Her brows rose. "Quite the curriculum."

"It is only a suggestion."

She laughed. "You've clearly put a lot of thought into this. Have you hired an etiquette tutor as well?"

The Goblin King sighed. "I am only looking out for you. I want you to feel comfortable, and I believe educating yourself on our land and our cultures would be of benefit. As well as occupy you."

"I don't know if I'll be up to studying. I only graduated a few months ago, and when I accepted my diploma I was more than ready to leave studying behind for a bit."

She turned to the nearest shelf. There was the barest layer of dust along with the exposed wood. A tarnished brass plate spelled out the category in a series of unfamiliar characters. They reminded her of tree branches. She ran her fingers over them, wondering if she'd ever be able to interpret the script.

The thought scared her. She felt like maybe, just maybe she was settling.

There was a shifting behind her - Jareth, moving closer. "Do you like it?" He sounded almost...nervous. But that couldn't be.

His mismatched eyes confirmed that this was actually the case. Turning to peer up into his face, Sarah was surprised.

Part of her wanted to punish him. Turn up her nose, make him feel her wrath and scorn. But another part, the empathetic, compassionate part compelled her to reassure him. To go with the flow, accept her fate. The conflict swelled in her chest the closer he drew.

She settled for something in between. A mild smile and a simple nod.

He let her wander, following at a distance, answering her questions, before slowly and quietly fading from the room, allowing her to absorb the atmosphere and the texts she'd slowly started accumulating. A fairly substantial amount of the books were in English or generally recognizable languages. She quickly had a sizable stack of books.

In college, Sarah rediscovered her bookish nature. Instead of fairy tales, she was prone to reading more academic texts. In the several months since graduation, she'd grown to miss the hours spent in the library. Despite her joke about avoiding the chance to study, she settled into old habits swiftly.

The lamps must automatically have lit themselves because Sarah did not notice the sunlight fading and darkness descending upon the chamber. A notebook had appeared at her elbow, allowing her to delve into a book and take careful notes. It was only when Meldy appeared at her elbow insisting she eat dinner and take a break that she took pause. When Sarah realized what the time was and how weary she'd become, she was embarrassed. For several hours she'd simply ignored an aching neck and shoulders. She allowed the small goblin to drag her to her room, feed her a dinner of turkey sandwiches and tomato soup, and firmly put her to bed.

-XXX-

With that, her days found a routine. A light breakfast in her rooms, then a bath followed by Meldy dressing her. She took a walk around the garden, visiting her friends in their various corners. Sometimes Hoggle would let her work beside him in the greenhouses, tending to the tender green shoots that would be transferred to the vegetable garden. After that, she would have lunch, then retreat to the library to read and study. Meldy or Jareth would usually appear to tempt her to dinner.

While meals with Jareth could be tense and awkward, Sarah grudgingly appreciated the companionship. He was interested in her studies, interested in what she experienced in her day-to-day. To her surprise, he readily supplied suggestions for new books or corners of the palace to explore. He seemed to be willing her to let her find her own fondness for the place - and for him. His refusal to grant her his company very often was working - she occasionally found herself seeking him out.

She hated herself for it.

He was cocky and snobbish and smirked too often. They often butted heads on the simplest of topics - what kind of wine went with dinner, what books were best, what kind of sunset was prettiest. He drove her up the wall with the way he'd suddenly appeared beside her soundlessly, scaring the hell out of her. And he was terribly condescending at times. But that only made it more satisfying when she proved him wrong about something.

Thankfully, she didn't have to deal with him too often. They had dinner a few times a week Though she was never sure when exactly that would be - Meldy would just find her and dress her in a formal gown. She was sure Jareth delighted in that.

Tonight was one such night. Sarah sat before her vanity, bored while Meldy rummaged through the racks of clothes. The small goblin was muttering about needing to call the seamstress.

"Is something wrong?" Sarah asked, fiddling with her hair. "I told you, I know how to sew."

"I don't know if you're skilled enough for this task, my lady. We need to outfit you with a few more gowns."

Sarah laughed. "More? Whatever for?"

The maid sighed "The master did a fine job of supplying you with an appropriate selection. But you need a few more formal pieces for court. As the future consort of the Goblin King, you ought to look your best."

"I hope that's not my official title," Sarah replied dryly.

"Of course not. Your formal title is Lady Sarah of the Washington Above." Meldy pulled out a brocade skirt, examining it with a frown. "I won't have any of the other noblewomen demeaning you based on your wardrobe."

"If anything it'll be my attitude."

"Exactly," Meldy said without looking up.

Sarah grinned, reaching for a hairbrush. She started working it through her mane before pausing. Turning to her maid, she bit her lip, thinking before she asked, "What do you mean, I need formal pieces for court? I'm not...he's not going to like, I don't know present me or something?"

"He merely told me he wanted to make sure you were prepared." The goblin was unconcerned. "There was no talk of when or why, just that he wanted you prepared."

Sarah sighed. "Great. Well, I know what tonight's dinner conversation will be about."

Meldy dressed her in a silk gown that moved between was russet and silvery blue. It was vaguely Grecian in style, loose and flowy with an empire waist. For the first time in a while, it was something Sarah genuinely loved. Jareth remarked on it over their salads at the start of the meal. Beyond his usual compliment, he declared the color perfect, which reminded Sarah of Meldy's comments.

"Are you planning on forcing me to attend some kind of court function?" she asked bluntly. "I didn't even think you had court functions. There's never anyone here."

"You're limited to the residential wing, of course, you have been relatively separated from the typical goings-on." He set down his fork. "Though, over the last several weeks things have been quiet. Most people are on their own estates, enjoying the remainder of the summer before the autumn equinox."

"What's significant about that?"

"It's the change of the seasons. A cause for a festival, if there ever was one."

"And you plan on making me go and showing me off?" She ran a finger over the rim of her wine glass. "When were you going to tell me?"

Jareth issued a long sigh. "I was hoping to present you, formally, to the court."

"As what?" Her eyes flickered up to his.

"That is yet to be determined," he replied smoothly, reaching across to refill her glass. It occurred to her that they were dancing on the edge of the forbidden topic of marriage and her ascension to his throne. Recklessly, she plunged ahead.

"What are you telling them, then?"

His eyes flashed dangerously. "That you are mine. Nothing more."

"That implies a great deal," she said, lifting her chin. "I don't wish to offer anyone false promises, Jareth."

"I am aware, Sarah," he answered in a measured tone. "Of everyone, I am very aware."

Sarah was not satisfied, but she sipped her wine instead of responding. Jareth followed suit. They continued with their meal in relative silence until dessert.

Despite her annoyance at Jareth's insistence that they pose and playhouse, she was determined to get some adult conversation out of the evening. She's hardly seen anyone over the last three days and the lack of companionship was wearing on her. She'd take conversation when she could get it.

"I've been reading quite a bit about some of your histories," she began casually. "Mostly mythologies, I think, though it's difficult to tell. I have hit a bit of a roadblock. I don't understand the, er, classifications? What kinds of species live down here and how exactly they all fit together?"

Thankfully this interested him enough to forgive her standoffishness. Jareth patted his lips delicately with a napkin before speaking. "You must elaborate? Are you asking me to identify plants or persons?"

"Er, people. I know that goblins are one species, and Hoggle is different than a goblin. And you're the king of the goblins, but you don't seem to be one yourself."

"How astute."

She shot him a look. "I just wish to better understand."

He sighed. "You are right. There are many of us, many kinds of us that walk the Underground. The types of folk you're most likely to encounter can likely be summed up into a few categories. There are, of course, the goblins. They are not known for being bright, though they are rather inventive. Their closest kin are the dwarves. Dwarves tend to be more focused on things beneath the grounds, so their lands lie to the mountains in the north and west."

"Why is Hoggle here, then?"

Jareth paused. "You'll have to ask him. It is not my story to tell." He continued. "From there you'll see elves. There are two primary castes of sun and moon, high and forest elves. They are secretive and prefer to stay to themselves and their own parts. You will see some of the noble families at the equinox."

"And what about you?"

"I," Jareth said smugly, "Am fae. My family can trace their ancestry back hundreds of thousands of years before your kind even came to populate the Above."

"Fae? As in fairy?" Sarah was confused. "But I saw Hoggle spraying for them in the gardens. Like they were pests. You're not one of those?"

"Sort of. We have a complex morphology. The creatures you saw in the gardens were likely more of the flower type, sometimes called pixie or doxie. They're smaller, less prone to magic, and more...savage in nature. They are simple creatures. But I am a fae. My kind rule kingdoms. We control most of the major courts of the land. The Unseelie, the Seelie."

The terms were somewhat familiar. Something from poetry in her sophomore Scottish poetry class….

"Why is that? Why are you the ruling class?"

"I won't indulge you in a discussion of privilege, Sarah," he replied delicately. "Now, those are the three largest groups the populate the Underground, but there are also the merfolk, the night people, and centaurs. But there are fewer of them and they keep to themselves, even more than the elves."

Sarah had a thousand questions. They all caught in her throat as she considered. One finally bubbled up. "If you're a fae, how did you come to rule the Goblin Kingdom?"

His smile was tight. "That's a story for another day, my dearest Sarah."

"So there is a story?" She wasn't about to let this go. He had too many secrets, he could share at least one.

Jareth chose to ignore her. "I hope this helps with your studies."

Sarah glared. He merely smiled back at her, content to keep his secrets close.

"One day when you're queen all of this shall be made clear to you," he told her with a hint of mischief.

-XXX-

"Don't move or I'll stick you," the seamstress warned (or threatened, it was difficult to tell) through a mouth full of pins.

Sarah, who had already endured twenty minutes of measuring, pretended to be a scarecrow from her position on the stool. As the goblin moved around her, pinning hems, she murmured to herself about fabric weight and the lay of pleats. In the corner, Meldy offered her opinion occasionally.

"She's very pale," the maid observed. "Jewel tones would suit her skin."

"Yes, marvelous," Treda the seamstress agreed. "And the autumn colors are perfect for that…."

"You mustn't overwhelm her with layers, though. With a color like that and her figure, too much puff will make her look wide."

"Thank you," Sarah said dryly.

Treda glanced up at her. "You have a fine figure, miss. A nice hourglass. We'll show it off with this dress."

Sarah's fingers rested on the white muslin skirt that was to be the first draft of the dress. "What do most people wear? I don't want to be...flamboyant. I get the idea that's kind of the style. I'd like to blend in, or better yet, be so inconspicuous no one notices me."

The maid and the seamstress exchanged glances. "You're being presented," Meldy started gently. "You're a human, you're to be betrothed to the hosting king. People are going to notice you no matter your dress."

"Most of the night you'll be next to him at the head table in the dining hall or next to the throne," Treda added. "You are to be the center of attention."

Sarah groaned, rubbing her temples. "I didn't ask for this. It's not fair."

"Perhaps not," her maid agreed. "But it's the way of things. Come now, let us pick out a color for your dress. It will cheer you."

It did, a little. There was something fun about designing a ballgown, even if it was for a ball she dreaded. Treda took her request in order and presenting a sketch of an elegant yet simple dress that wouldn't make her look too puffy. Sarah would need to come for fitting at least twice before the celebration, along with a handful of other dresses for subsequent court functions. When Meldy told her she'd need at least four others, Sarah had sighed and submitted to being led through the fabric stores to pick out bolts of damask, silk, brocade, and velvet. There was something fun about it, but the notion of being stared at by legions of nobles darkened all notions of happiness.

"They don't all think we're, like, engaged. Right?"

The goblins exchanged another pitying glance. Sarah's heart sank. The invitations, Treda explained, included a mention of her and it was generally well-known the Goblin King was hosting a human woman he was set on marrying.

"Great," Sarah grumbled. "So much for controlling my own narrative."

"Buck up," Meldy said with little sympathy. "At least as the future queen you'll be set to tell them off if they disrespect you."

She had not considered that. It was cold comfort, nonetheless. As Treda began pinning a length of dusty rose satin to her waist, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Meldy was right. She was pale, paler than she'd been before coming here, even as a native of Washington. Her hair was now past her shoulders, when it had been cropped just below her chin upon her arrival, and it shone like dark satin. And her entire face was...sharper. Thinner. Strange. She was eating well, between three meals a day and tea twice. The cook wasn't the type to use low-fat low-sugar foods.

" _Is this place changing me?"_ she wondered, staring into her own eyes. Those were the same, at least. Well. Perhaps the green was a little more vivid, but people's eyes changed in the light all the time. Still...was it possible that the magic or whatever it was affecting her?

This was a question for Jareth, but she was angry with him at the moment.

When Treda was done she speculated that it would take her two weeks to finish the order, just a few days before the equinox. "Time to make some adjustments," she observed with pleasure. Sarah thanked her, not wanting to be rude despite her frustration with the course of events.

With that, Meldy led her back to her room and presenting her with lunch. Once Sarah had finished her sandwiches she headed to bed for a nap. It was just past noon, but the day had been a long one already.

**-XXX-**


	8. Chapter 8

**-XXX-**

Hoggle surprised them all with a bottle of blueberry wine during their weekly picnic and surprised them again when he let it slip that it was a bottomless bottle, the kind enchanted to refill when the last drop had been drunk. Between that and the egg custard tart Sir Didymus had provided, Sarah was quite distracted indeed when it came time to start preparing for the ball. Meldy had warned her she'd need several hours to dress, which Sarah had planned on heeding. Until her fourth glass of wine….

Jareth had promised her that particular parts of the gardens would be limited to her use the week of the equinox. Dozens of guests would be staying at the castle, and he while he wished to keep them entertained with his elaborate landscape, he knew it would greatly satisfy Sarah to have free reign of her favorite areas. Therefore, he indulged her - though it benefited him as well. To keep her from the prying eyes of courtiers before her formal introduction suited him well. As he put it, controlling their narrative was vital to her reign. Sarah did not like to think of such matters.

Which led her to the start of her fifth and final glass. She was not looking forward to the evening's festivities, so her friends had moved their picnic up a day and shown up with their best offerings. While Ludo's apples were delicious, Didymus's tart mouth-watering, and her own humble bread hearty, it was Hoggle's wine she paid special attention to. Much to her maid's displeasure.

The maid found them on the pavilion overlooking the goldfish ponds. She was clearly furious, but she didn't say a word, merely waited for Sarah to stop giggling and straighten up. Then she led her charge by hand to her bathroom for a bath, all but dragging her along. Sarah nearly stumbled several times between her drunkness and being pulled down due to their opposing heights. Meldy threw her into the tub with a huff. The water was scalding and Sarah couldn't help but feel a little punished as the goblin pushed her into the water. Meldy hadn't cooled off by the time she began raking a comb through Sarah's hair, but Sarah endured, wincing all the way through.

When they started picking out stocking Meldy seemed relatively assuaged. She was gentle with the laces of Sarah's corset and even open to answering a few questions.

"Just follow his highness in all that he does - don't eat before him, sit before him, anything of that nature. And I wouldn't accept any dance partners unless he expressly allows it."

"What am I to do, then?" Sarah grumbled. The small goblin was applying a thin coat of gloss to her nails, staining them a rich burgundy.

"I imagine he'll spend a good deal of time seated at the head of the room, at his throne. You'll likely be installed next to him. Otherwise, you will have the chance to be social - though I would avoid some folk. Several of the Fae ladies are less gentile in nature. " Meldy sniffed. "Your main tasks will be ceremonial. You'll lead the party into the dining room with him, then onto dancing. He'll dance with you at least twice, I'm sure. Once to open the evening, again to close."

"Meldy, I don't know how to dance. I mean, I know our dances, but I have no clue how you dance down here!"

The goblin was unconcerned. "The master would not set you up to fail. It's all simple, I'm sure, you can just follow him."

Sarah was unconvinced. Despite her general frustration toward the whole notion of being presented at court like some kind of prized cow at auction, she still wished to come off as relatively put together. Being a complete mess would serve no one. She only hoped she could pull off the act of prospective queen with minimal failings. Though, she mused, perhaps if Jareth could see that she was ill-suited to the role he might consider freeing her, despite his stupid maze's rules.

By the time her makeup was complete, they had little time left before Jareth expected her. Meldy rushed to dress her in the elaborate gown that the goblin selected. It was a bona fide ballgown with three layers of petticoats. The waist was cut close to Sarah's body before flaring out at her hips, and the neckline was a daring square-cut. Her sleeves were loose and opened at her elbow before cascading into a waterfall of fabric (they would undoubtedly get in her way all night). The overskirt was a burgundy velvet, as were the sleeves and much of the bodice. The underskirt was a luminous champagne gold taffeta. Ribbons composed of delicate embroidery of golden ivy lined the neckline and the bottom seam of her skirt. Sarah was breathless - both because she had only seen clothes this gorgeous as costumes on TV period dramas, and because her corset was tight enough to clench her lungs.

"What do you think?"

It was the first time the goblin had asked Sarah such a question. She sounded nervous, and that realization made Sarah nervous. Slowly, Sarah turned before the mirror. Truth be told, she was dumbstruck. She looked like an entirely new person. Meldy had pulled her hair up and braided into a crown that coiled at the top of her head, interweaving golden ribbons and placing a few pearl-encrusted pins to match the collar of pearl and garnets that lay across Sarah's throat. She looked pale and unearthly with a long, graceful neck and a striking figure. She wasn't willowy by any means, but the trim of the dress made her look pleasingly hourglass-like. The dark outline around her eyes made them seem to sparkle.

All at once it impressed and scared her. Clearing her throat, Sarah replied. "I look lovely, Meldy, thank you. I'm sorry again that I was late.

This seemed to satisfy her. "I'll fetch his highness."

Sarah almost moved to stop her but she disappeared with a "pop," leaving Sarah alone with her mirror.

Compelled to continue looking she saw a glimpse of her mother inside - they nearly had the same green-grey eyes and the same straight nose. But Sarah had inherited Robert's strong brows and straight, dark hair. She was glad she didn't have to face a reflection of Linda every day.

These thoughts were thankfully interrupted by Jareth's arrival. He simply appeared by her mantle, elbow supporting his weight in a sinfully casual pose. To greet the autumn season he wore a deep red coat of a Georgian style, with heavy gold embroidery of a scroll-like pattern lining the edges. It suspiciously matched hers. Even the broach, which sat amid the ruffles of his white shirt, seemed to be a twin to her necklace.

"Oh, I must change," she said. "We're far too similar for my taste."

"And what good taste you have," he said, moving to greet her. "You look beautiful, Sarah."

"I agree," she replied easily. "I do look beautiful."

"And if we resemble one another, then I surely must look dashing myself."

Sarah looked out at him from beneath her lashes. "You said it, not I," she said dryly.

Jareth smirked as he offered a hand. "We're running late. Enough witty banter. Come."

She accepted and with that they were suddenly before a heavy set of double doors framed by a pair of palace guards. The great hall, she recalled, from her first day. Jareth tucked her arm into his, looking down at her with full eyes. For a moment she could sense apprehension - he was, perhaps, just as anxious as she. Without a word, he squeezed her hand, closed his eyes, turned forward, straightened, and signaled the guards. The door opened on cue and Jareth glided forward, bringing Sarah with him.

Dimly, she was aware they were being announced, but she was too overwhelmed to really heard. What felt like over a hundred pairs of eyes were upon them. The room was packed with bodies, all dressed to the nines. Sarah saw dwarves and fae and elves all mingling about. It was a sea of autumn colors. To her relief, her outfit was not the most ostentatious, far from it in fact. She did not have time to gage much else as they were soon ascending the dais at the head of the room.

Jareth claimed his throne, the circular chair that vaguely resembled the pendant he wore. Next to his throne sat a modest chair of similar construction, which Jareth ushered her into with a small gesture. She sank down with as much grace as she could muster. And then it began.

The herald, a distinguished-looking gentleman with a long beard and owlish glasses, took his place at the base of the dais with his list. With great dignity, he announced the names of his betters. Each family approached with grave expressions, bowing, and curtsying as was required. Sarah noted many a scanning glance - as well as some scathing ones - sent her way.

In between announcements, Jareth spoke to her, describing the various families, their histories and quirks. Sarah merely listened, nodding occasionally. She was focused on schooling her expression to one of impassion. Jareth had it mastered and it seemed to come in handy.

"You need to not fear anyone here," he said offhandedly at one point. It startled her and she looked at him fully. "There certainly are those to fear, but you've been marked as under my protection. No one dare trouble to future Goblin Queen. Now, if you had wandered in an alone, unmarked, and unclaimed human…"

His smile was terrible and inhumane. It was a worthwhile reminder to her, though. He wasn't human, none of them were. They were callous, dark, and old-world in their cruelty.

"I did not consider myself marked in anyway," she replied quietly.

"Perhaps not in a physical sense, yet." He shifted, tugging on one of his gloves. "But it ought to be clear to any creature of the Underground whose protection you are under."

"How?"

Another name was called and a group of tanned and thin-faced elves stepped forward. Once they cleared out Jareth replied.

"There are several ways but the most obvious would be your scent. To an outsider of the Goblin Kingdom, you reek of us."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "Ew."

He allowed a small smile. "It is not as bad as that. It's a rather nice smell. A little bright, almost citrus."

"How odd."

After about a half-hour they moved on to dinner. Once again Jareth claimed her arm as they led the party into the adjoining dining hall. They were seated at a high table with Jareth in the middle and Sarah to the right. Several others joined them up there, representatives of the major courts of the land. The rest sat at long tables beyond them.

Meldy had warned her of the wine, so Sarah stuck to water, having reached her quota for drunkness that day. Jareth followed suit, not touching his wine glass once though he beckoned a servant over several times throughout the meal to refill the goblets of those around him. He was in a good temper, though aloof as ever. Occasionally he would place a light hand over hers as it rested on top of the table, but otherwise, he did not pay her any special attention.

Which seemed to be a blessing. Many eyes tracked them throughout the meal. Sarah was glad to have the opportunity to remain silent. She did not wish to put a show on for anyone. They were enraptured enough with Jareth's small affections.

When everyone seemed sufficiently drunk, it was time to move on to the dancing. Jareth rose briefly to offer a speech, thanking everyone for coming, welcoming them to his court, and observing that general pleasure of the equinox. There was much laughter and applause, which reflected in the glow of everyone's faces. Jareth wished everyone good health, then announced that they were moving back to the great hall. With Sarah on his arm again they moved back to the dais. Once everyone was inside, it was time to open the floor up to dancing.

Sarah's nerves were reverberating around her stomach like marbles. She had certainly been on display before, but dancing would allow for any misstep to be glaringly obvious. Earlier, she had begged Jareth to open the dance with anyone, anyone else, just not her. He reminded her that it was tradition, an honor, even, and everyone would be terribly disappointed if she did not. "Disappointed" wasn't exactly the word she would choose - though, perhaps they would be displeased that they didn't get the further opportunity to observe her.

Jareth led her down the steps to the floor, where space waited for them. If he noticed the shiver that echoed through her gloves, he did react. A few murmurs rose up from the crowd. Sarah stared back at the eyes that gazed mercilessly upon her. In the candlelight, the numerous orbs gleamed along with the jewels that adorned their necks. Jareth gently tugged, reminding her to focus. The musical slowly drifted throughout the room, swelling as she was swept against the king.

This was the closest they had been in a while. She was gathered in his arms, nearly chest-to-chest. Jareth's eyes were heavy on hers. The dance felt very, very adult. Suddenly, Sarah felt like a little girl. Out of place and too-too young for where she was.

She didn't stumble once. Jareth kept her close, moving their bodies in slow motion in something that vaguely reminded her of a waltz. His hands rested lightly on her hand and waist, but he was unabashedly in control. At the end of their turn, he released her, bowing deeply. Sarah took that as a cue to curtsy herself. That, at least, was something she could do with minimal instruction.

With that, the dancing began for everyone else. Jareth extended an offer to an elf matriarch and soon the dance floor was flooded with dancers. Relieved, Sarah was now free to lose herself in the crowd. She made her way to the refreshments table, seeking water. A goblin in a yellow and green uniform rushed to offer her an icy goblet of white wine. Giving up, Sarah accepted it, taking only small sips. With that she was content to linger against a wall, watching.

More than once someone approached to extend the offer to dance. Sarah begged off, claiming exhaustion, but she assured them that in a few more rounds she'd be willing. Meldy made it clear that she was expected to dance at least a few numbers with different partners. "Else you'll come off as haughty," the goblin had said. Sarah didn't have the heart to try, however.

Her reputation was already setting in poorly. A few seats down she could hear a handful of cold-faced fae ladies murmuring amongst themselves. They did not seem to be aware of her presence, allowing her to listen fully.

"Of all the women," one said, shaking her head. "He has almost his pick of all the court despite his dumpy little kingdom, and he picks some human girl."

"You know his taste, Delia," another with piles of golden hair replied. "Constantly bringing human girls down here for his little games, to run that bloody maze. I've heard that he was infatuated with many a runner. I can't believe he finally settled on one. Though you know what they say…."

"Jareth has always had odd taste," a black-eyed fae agreed. "He's so fond of those goblins, it's no surprise humans also strike his interest. But this one is so plain. She's nothing much to look at."

"I don't think looking is what he's concerned about," the fair-haired one said dryly. With that, the group descended into titters.

Sarah realized that she had been clenching her hands into fists. " _Miserable harpies."_ The kingdom might be small, but it was not dumpy. And Jareth was, she was coming to realize, simply not a snob like the rest of them. She surprised herself in her automatic defense of him. But they were cruel and she had a strong sense of justice. They weren't being fair to anyone.

The wine was taking its toll. She was terribly tempted to give the collection of fae a piece of her mind. But she was not so far go as to believe that was a good idea. Sipping her wine, she savored the tart and sweetness on her tongue.

Feeling irritated, she accepted the next offer to dance and went through several songs. Now that the dance floor was full, she felt less self-conscious. She was not terribly worried when she missed a step or stepped on a partner's toes. In fact, she felt quite out of it as she moved from partner to partner. It became just a swirl of autumn colors and patterns of movement as she drifted through each dance. Until everything came to a grinding halt when a gloved hand found her wrist, drawing her near.

Jareth again, with his brows raised. She'd not seen him since their dance, except in passing with various dance partners. His fingers found the pulse in her wrist, lightly stroking. Sarah gasped when he began moving with her against the music. It was heavy with harps and flute, reminding her of the sounds of a renaissance festival.

"Are you alright, Sarah?" he asked. He knew good and well her state, he was teasing. Sarah didn't want to let him have the satisfaction. Instead of answering she placed her head against his shoulder.

At the end of the dance, he led her to a door tucked between one of the columns that lined the room, where a goblin waited with a goblet. Jareth plucked it from the creature's hands and handed it to Sarah before leading her through the door. Night air brushed her face. They were on a pavilion overlooking a stretch of fountains and neatly shaped bushes.

"Drink," Jareth commanded. "It's merely water. I suspect you could use it."

She took a long drink, breathing heavily after she finished. "Thank you."

"Do you want to stay out here?"

"Won't I be missed?" She frowned. "I thought you wanted me to stay."

His lips quirked. "Yes, but you don't want to stay inside. I won't force you. Especially when you're in a mood such as this. Now, stay out here as you please. Get some air. I'll come to fetch you when things have calmed."

With that he moved away, heading back towards the door. Sarah found a place on the stairs leading down to the fountains and sat, letting her skirts billow out and blossom around her. She leaned back, observing the stars. As she sipped the water her head began to feel more solid. The world stopped spinning. And quiet resumed.

-XXX-

Time passed, but Sarah did not mark it. She did not know how long it was before Jareth returned, only that it had been a while. He did not make a sound when he approached, she simply caught sight of his brilliant red coat from the corner of her eye. He moved slowly and without pretense, which was unlike him. She wondered for a moment if he was perhaps drunk. But one look into his eyes assured her he was of sound mind. They were steady as ever.

"Is it over?" she asked gently. He did not answer, merely moved to lean against the baluster alongside her.

"It's a strange balance," he said absently. "The day and the night. You would think they would always be of equal length. But only a few times a year can they bargain to stand in equality."

"I'm not terribly well-versed in astronomy," Sarah ventured, rising from the steps to stand beside him. "But I would speculate it has something to do with our passage around the sun and the equator if I remember anything from middle school science."

Jareth laughed at that. "Humans must always have an answer. You can't just let something be, can you? Every element must be prodded and poked until it reveals its secret."

Sarah did not know what to say to that. She was a believer of science, had nearly gotten her degree in biology for her love of it. Curiosity was part of her nature. So she simply waited. He bowed his head with a sigh. Reaching into his scarlet coat, he withdrew a package from one of the pockets, handing it to her wordlessly. It was flat, consisting of several layers of white linen tied with a worn lavender ribbon. Sarah unwrapped it slowly. Even in the dim light given off by faint pinprick stars and a half-moon, the circlet gleamed.

In the folds of white fabric, the silver stood out magnificently. It was a simple design - braided vines draping in a "v" before the brow, set with peridot and several small grey pearls. A crescent symbol, similar to the one he wore, held the peridot in the center of the "v." Sarah held it in her hands, speechless.

"It would have not suited your dress." His voice broke through the quiet like a dam bursting. "But I still should have liked to have seen you in it tonight."

"Oh, my," she said faintly.

The Goblin King spoke softly. "I have been very patient, Sarah. You've been here for several months. I must ask - have your feelings altered in any way? I don't wish to carry any false hopes, but tonight -"

She held the circlet to her chest for a moment before returning it to its wrappings. Gently, she turned to him, lifting a hand to his face. He readily pressed his cheek against her palm, letting a breath loose as though a weight had been lifted from him. That weight settled upon Sarah's shoulders and scared her.

They stood like that for several moments before she let her hand slide down and rest against his chest. Jareth's eyes opened, blinking to focus on her. She thought for a moment he might kiss her. But the Goblin King merely raised a hand to meet her own against his sternum, holding it in place for a moment. It warmed for a moment, and there was a brief glow. Surprised Sarah made to withdraw her limb, but he held her fast.

When the warmth faded Jareth released her hand, allowing her to examine it. On the middle finger sat a delicate, finely wrought band. It was strikingly similar to the circlet and when Sarah glanced at the pile of linen where it rest, she found the jewelry gone.

Her eyes rose to meet the Goblin King's own mismatched orbs.

"There. You are marked now," he said simply. "When you are ready to wear it…."

Sarah held her breath. She could feel the potential for anger rise in her chest, protesting for this unwanted gift. Jareth wouldn't allow it, though. He stepped forward swiftly, pressing his lips chastely to her forehead. When she opened her eyes she was in her room. The lights were dimmed, the fire was set, and she was alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**-XXX-**

The history section of the library kept beckoning to her. She danced around with a few books but had yet to delve in. Most of the history questions she brought to her friends or Jareth. So far, Sarah had stuck to fiction and poetry - things that she'd studied intensely at school. They were comforting things that helped her pass the days.

It was a rainy afternoon when she came across a surprise on the shelves. She was fingering through several titles, looking for something new when a thin novel, tucked between a pair of large books, fell out. It had been hidden, likely pushed back by some hasty re-shelving, and a thin layer of dust covered the edge of the pages. With one finger and the edge of her tunic, she cleaned it, working to decipher the title. The gold print was faded. Framed by a simple black border of lines and roses, she traced the lines, eyes narrowed. " _The Labyrinth._ " Thumbing through the slim novel, she saw a few antique prints of fearsome yet familiar creatures along with lines of verse in a delicate script. Curious, Sarah took the book back to her reading corner.

Engrossed from the first line, she read it in one sitting, only interrupted when Meldy brought her a cup of coconut tea and chocolate biscuits. It was late afternoon by the time she finished. She settled back into the chair, holding the book to her chest. It had given her much to think about.

The story read like a fairy tale and a familiar one at that. It featured a headstrong heroine who accidentally wished away her baby brother to the land of Goblin and must figure her way through a massive Labyrinth, coming across all manner of creatures and obstacles. The most fearsome was the Goblin King, a dark and menacing figure who was set on keeping the babe. He also seemed to take pleasure in being difficult when it came to the heroine, using all manner of tricks to lead her off the trail. He was a bit of a rascal, though, and Sarah had a hard time not liking his wit.

The final pages caused her to grip the book with anxiety. With only minutes left to spare, the unnamed heroine made her way to the castle and the babe. Only to be held up by the Goblin King again with a plea to stay with him. The heroine had stuck to her principles, in the end, and had refused him. The book ended with the king toppling his kingdom and sinking into deep despair while the girl and her brother returned home, the heroine having grown as a person.

Sarah couldn't shake the feeling that it had been a story from her childhood. There was something terribly familiar in the description of the Goblin King's feral grin and the heroine's impassioned speeches. Then again, Sarah was certain that the king described in the book and the king whose hospitality she was forced to accept were one and the same. What was this book? A history? Or a story? And who was this mysterious heroine? Was she based in fact?

As she scanned several of the verses in the first chapter something tugged on her memory. The mention of "run" when the Goblin King struck her and Sarah was reminded of the cluster of fae women at the equinox a few weeks ago. They'd mentioned "runners" and a series of human girls brought down here. Based on what they said, many girls had been brought to the Underground by Jareth and made to run the Labyrinth, perhaps as some kind of punishment? They had indicated that she was special in some way, however. She hadn't run, and she stuck around, unlike the others if they were to be believed.

She wanted to find Jareth and ask what this book meant and why it had been hidden. She wanted to know if girls really were forced to run his stupid maze to Yet as her fingertips once again traced the gilded letters she considered the ramifications of such questions. At worst he'd be angry, at best he'd probably laugh at her for believing in fairy tales. But the Underground itself was proving to be one big dark, twisted fairy tale. She'd perhaps be foolish to consider anything that read like fiction as anything less than history.

-XXX-

Despite the rain and moderate cold the greenhouses were relatively humid, and when she found herself seeking a change of scenery, as well as a bit of work. Hoggle was more than happy to allow her to prune, water, and plant just as long as she didn't get too creative.

Today he had her collecting tiny tomatoes and heads of lettuce. The greenhouse produced year-round, as did the orchard, so there was always something to be harvested. It was nice to have an occupation besides reading. She loved watching her basket fill, knowing that she would likely be enjoying the fruits (and vegetables) of her labor.

Others would too, and not just the goblins who served the castle of the Goblin King. There were still a number of people in the castle, staying through until Samhain. This apparently was a common thing, for courtiers to stay for long periods between holidays. Now that she'd been presented, Sarah no longer had the gardens to herself. She was expected to mingle, which meant that she had dinner with court twice a week and bumped into people in the hall regularly. It was unsettling, as they all knew who she was but she only vaguely recalled a handful of their names.

The library and the greenhouse were left to her, however, and Sarah took advantage of the quiet. No one had been cruel to her, exactly, but she found it difficult to purposefully put herself in their company. Everyone treated her with the utmost respect. Yet she felt awkward like they were observing her every movement and taking notes for some future judgment.

" _Of course they would,"_ Sarah thought bitterly. " _They consider me a future queen. They're trying to figure out what kind of monarch I mean to be."_

What they didn't know is that she didn't intend to be any kind of queen.

Weary of her anxiety, Sarah turned her focused back to gathering ripe tomatoes. As she worked, she hummed a tune, idly thinking of other aspects of gardening. Hoggle had tentatively agreed to let her try planting an avocado and a mango tree. He thought they could get some sapling in a few months, and assured her that the nature of the Underground would allow them to grow and begin producing within just a few years. In the back of her mind, Sarah observed that she wouldn't be here in a few years - not if she had her way.

Hoggle approached her just as she was fetching another basket. "Can you check the pumpkins? The cook is bothering me for a half dozen for the feast next week. Apparently, the twelve I gave her yesterday won't fetch enough pies and soup."

"Sure," Sarah said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. She reached for one of the hats that hung from a series of pegs in the shed and pulled her gloves from her back pocket. A month ago she'd managed to negotiate with Meldy and the seamstress to make her a few pairs of simple pants with proper pockets. They were wary to make things that would just serve to get dirty, but Sarah convinced them.

"Be sure to take the wheelbarrow," he added as she headed towards to squash patch. She waved in response.

The pumpkins that were left were somewhat oblong and misshapen. If they were being used for cooking, Sarah reasoned, that ought to not be a problem. Hoggle was saving back a few extra pumpkins for decorations, so if Cook wanted prettier pumpkins she could haggle with him.

When she returned, she found Hoggle to be sitting against one of the barrels of rainwater, watching Ludo eat a collection of produce that had been deemed overly-ripe for the kitchen.

"Hello, Ludo," she said warmly. "Enjoying those sprouts?"

He nodded around a green mouthful. "Yeess."

Taking a seat next to Hoggle, Sarah untied her waterskin from her belt, taking a swig. A question she'd thought up while selecting pumpkins rose forth.

"What is the big deal with the Samhain?" she asked. "Everyone seems to be in a tizzy about it. I know there is to be a feast, but what exactly is it all for?"

"It's the mark of the dark half of the year. Winter, I suppose," Hoggle answered. "You humans see it as a celebration of the dead, but we recognize it for what it truly is - the day of the year when the walls between the realms are thinner. Veils lifted and all that."

"What do you mean?"

"All of the borders between the Underground and the Above are thinner. You lot think its spirits coming through, but it's some of our folks, slipping through."

"The...walls are weaker?" Sarah said softly. "So it's possible for someone to go to the Above." She straighted. "How? How could someone do that?"

Hoggle, realizing that he'd perhaps said too much, looked very wary. "I don't know. Never tried."

She was disappointed, yet hopeful. Hoggle might not know, but she had an entire library at her disposal….

Her scheming came to a screeching halt with the arrival of an out-of-breath page. "His Majesty wants to see you, miss! Right away, in the courtyard."

"Oh," she sighed. "Sorry, Hoggle. I'll come back if there is time." Rising, she asked the uniformed goblin, "Does he want me right away? I'm not exactly a state for presenting."

"As soon as possible, miss," he said, bowing hastily.

"Very well. Tell him I'll be a moment."

Despite the page's pleas to hurry, Sarah took her time walking to the castle. The weather was nice with just a hint of crispness to the air. She paused at one of the fountains to splash some water on her face and hands, then dusted off her tunic and braided her hair, using one of the laces she kept in her pocket for tying young plants to stakes. The effort would go unnoticed, she was sure.

He was waiting for her, brows rising when he took in her appearance of loose-fitting olive pants crusted with mud at the hems and a thin linen blouse. "I told you that you needed to earn your living here," he said, lips quirking. "You need not toil for my sake."

"I assure you I am not."

Jareth was a dramatic contrast to her. He wore a midnight blue tailored jacket of a military-style over a simple ivory shirt, as well as tight black leggings with heavy boots. His hair was shot with electric blue and gold today. Sarah could not stop looking at him. He looked like a rockstar. Sexy, forbidden, almost airtouched. 

"Well, you summoned me," she said, crossing her arms. "What do you need?"

It had been some time since they were alone - not since the equinox, over a fortnight ago. Not since he gave her the ring that still sat on her middle left finger. That first night she's played with the idea of not wearing it, slipping it on and off before she fell asleep. She hadn't had the heart, however. So she wore it, regularly twisting it when she was thinking or nervous. As she was right now.

The reflection must have caught his eye, for he reached for her hand, lifting it aloft, examining the jewelry.

"You're wearing my gift," he remarked. Sarah glanced up, trying to read his expression. It was blank. She took back her hand.

"Yes. That doesn't answer my question. What do you want?"

Her rudeness seemed to catch him off guard. Jareth blinked at the spot where his hand had been before straightening, a smooth smile sliding into his face. It never failed to impress her how effortlessly he changed masks. From gentle, uncertain man to an egocentric, fierce monarch. It was a marvel indeed.

"I wanted to request your company on Samhain next week. We're to have the feast, of course, but following that most families celebrate with their own, privately."

"And don't you wish to do this with your family?" She tilted her head. Truth be told, she didn't know if Jareth even had a family.

His lips pursed together. "No. I wish to spend it with you."

"Oh." Sarah did not know what to say to that. He was behaving very strangely - then again, he continually befuddled her by defying expectations. So perhaps he was being normal. "What does that entail?"

"It's like any other holiday, it's built on togetherness and reflection."

It was a vague answer that did not satisfy her. "Yes, but what sort of rituals come along with it?"

Jareth rolled his eyes, decidedly annoyed with her for dragging out her answer. "I promise nothing that involves bloodletting or the consumption of anything unsightly. It truly is not so different from any of your holidays. Now please, will you come?"

"Very well. But if anything weird happens, I'm out."

"You have my word." He put a hand on his heart, a gesture she was familiar with from seeing other Underground dwellers use it when they making a promise. "I know you shall enjoy it."

Sarah hoped he was right.

**-XXX-**


	10. Chapter 10

**-XXX-**

Hoggle seemed to imply that Samhain offered some kind of potential for passage back to the Above. Sarah was determined to find out whether or not that was the case. Naturally, she turned to the library.

Libraries had long been her refuge. It had not always been that way. Somewhere around the age of 15 something snapped in Sarah. Maybe it was Karen's repeated badgering that she find a boyfriend or at least friends. Her father's disappointed expression when she returned home from the park in costume, again, flowers in her hair. Or maybe it was after Toby's near-death experience. Whatever the cause, she made a true attempt a growing up, setting aside the more immature interest. After she shoved boxes of toys and childish games, costumes, and fantasy posters, there wasn't much left in her room besides books. So she turned to them. And when she ran out…

Fantasy novels felt a little less dangerous. They weren't her daydreams. She didn't have an impulse to play-act them, incorporate them into her life in quite the same way as some of her more juvenile books. Her school library quickly ran dry forcing her to use the city's. College was a busy time, but the university's massive collection beckoned nonetheless.

Maybe it was a boring interest, but it was hers. And here, it was serving her well.

It took some time to find something that would elaborate on what, precisely, was possible on the Samhain. Some books indicated that one would need to use magic to attempt to cross through the veil. Others seemed to imply that a simple mirror would do the trick if only she said the right words. Sarah attempted to memorize the words, fearful that if she dared write them down, Jareth might find them.

With some planning, she conceived something of a scheme. If Jareth would let her go before Samhain ended, she could give the mirror in her room a try.

If only she had something left from home. The books indicated that having something from the place you wanted to go with you would help. But Meldy had taken the clothes she'd arrived in. Her phone had disappeared upon her arrival, the watch she'd worn, even the earrings -

But were the earrings gone? She could remember handing them to Meldy one morning, after her bath. Had the goblin kept them? Or had these too been tossed? Surely not, they were amethyst in a white gold setting, a birthday gift from her parents on her nineteenth. They were _nice._

Determined to find them, Sarah dove into the depths of her dressing room, digging through every drawer and box. She did not often explore on her own. Her maid was rather possessive, so Sarah didn't have a complete idea of what the closet contained. She was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer mass. Soon there was a circle of jewelry boxes and cases encircled around her.

That's where Meldy found her. "Can I help you, miss?" she asked cautiously.

"Oh." Sarah straightened as best she could from her sitting position. "Um, yes, I'm looking for the earrings I was wearing when I arrived. The purple studs. Do you know where they are?"

The goblin hesitated.

"Meldy?" Sarah narrowed her eyes. "What happened to them?"

"The master had everything you came with disposed of, miss," she said. "Except for your trinkets. I gave them to him months ago. You might try asking him."

Sarah groaned. Of course, Jareth had taken everything. It was still possible that he might have them in his possession. All she had to do was ask. After all, what was the worst he could do? A try couldn't hurt.

**-XXX-**

As it turned out, a try could hurt. A lot, in fact.

Sarah had not wanted to appear desperate, however, she figured showing Jareth a sweeter side might give her some advantage. So she wore a dress that was a little lower cut than usual, a smidge tighter. She made sure her ring was on, and she flashed a smile to the mirror several times before leaving her room, wanting to make sure she could offer something close to a genuine smile.

Jareth was waiting for her on the pavilion, wearing an immaculate white poet's shirt that exposed his crescent pendant and tight navy pants tucked into polished black boots. Much more relaxed of an outfit than usual. Sarah felt that they were well-matched for once.

His brows rose upon the sight of her with a basket and a blanket folded under her arm. "A picnic?"

"It's around teatime," she said casually as she offered the blanket. "Shall we?"

He followed her out to the gardens. They slowly picked a path to the lake. Sarah tried to be extra conversational, as well as perhaps a little more physically affectionate than usual. When she stumbled she reached for his shoulders, when it was windy she moved closer to shield herself. Her fingers brushed his arm as they walked side-by-side down narrower stretches of path. Observing him closely she saw the occasional tightening of knuckles or abrupt twitch, but otherwise, he revealed no excitement or discomfort.

He let her pick a sunny spot, quietly observing as she set up the spread. He was being suspiciously quiet, all things considered. Sarah supposed that her invitation - the first time she had voluntarily asked him to accompany her for an activity - was a little shocking. He ought to have been thrilled, but his pensive mood didn't bode well. Fearful, Sarah wondered if perhaps Meldy had tipped him off and he was onto her motives for this picnic. Only time would tell….

His eyes rose when she pulled a bottle of red wine from the depths of the basket. Ignoring his gaze, she loaded two plates with bread, cheese, cured meats, and fruit. With practiced ease, she lounged on the blanket. Jareth followed suit, his easy much more natural. They ate and drank, making small talk. Sarah inquired about Samhain, its traditions, and origins. She asked if the Goblin Kingdom had any region-specific traditions and watched some measure of pride swell in the king's chest as he described the flower wreaths, traditional food, and the songs of his youth.

When he was properly relaxed, Sarah made a small, almost sorrowful observation regarding their location. It was well-timed.

"My parents used to take me to a lake like this," she said, wistful. "For my birthday and stuff like that."

"Human birthdays are very interesting," Jareth remarked. "Your lives are so short, yet you take great pleasure in marking the passing of years."

"It's a way of celebrating life, I suppose." Taking a measured sip of wine she let her hand briefly skim his as she reached for a napkin. "Do you exchange gifts for birthdays, here?"

"Certainly."

"What kinds of things?"

Jareth mused. "Jewelry, books. Trinkets, mostly."

"We do that as well. I did not get much jewelry, though," she admitted. "I think the last thing I got were some amethyst earrings." Then, as though the memory pained her, Sarah looked down at her lap, letting her lip jut out. "I think I may have lost them when I came here."

"What a pity," Jareth said, face betraying nothing.

Sarah sipped her wine again, frustrated thoughts coloring her vision. The snake wasn't going to admit that he'd seen them, let alone kept or disposed of them. Sarah bit back a sigh. She would not bother asking outright, for fear that he might discern her plans. No, she'd have to try to think up another way.

On the walk back to the castle she'd dropped the act, but Jareth had not gotten the memo. He loomed closer than he ever would have before. It was mildly annoying until she'd stumbled on an unseen tree root and he had swiftly caught her.

Trembling in his arms, she winced as he righted her, their chests brushing. Their faces were very very close as Jareth steadied her, hands spanning her hips. His sea-colored eyes flicked to her mouth. Sarah took a breath, which was quickly released when she tried to put weight on her right foot.

"OW!"

Cursing, she let the Goblin King help her limp to a nearby rock so that he might remove her shoes and socks. Tenderly, he removed them, fingers gently prodding. Once he finished examining the area, he proclaimed it merely bruised, not sprained. Sarah groaned.

"I am no healer, but I believe you'll be back to walking without pain in just a day or two," he said, rolling her sock back up gently. "You could have it far worse. But never fear," the king added with a grin. "You'll be back to one hundred percent in time for Samhain."

"Yipee," Sarah replied, sarcasm in full swing. "That was truly my greatest concern"

Jareth patted her head. "I know. Worry not."

With that, he produced a crutch out of thin air (she'd never get used to that) and helped her hobble up to the castle where he turned her over to Meldy and the white-haired healer Sarah had often seen at court. Before he left her lounging in a chaise in one of the drawing rooms, he pressed a quick kiss to her head.

"See you at Samhain."

As soon as the door closed behind him, Sarah scowled. Meldy, ever-knowing, suppressed a smile.

**-XXX-**

The day came and this time Sarah was where she needed to be in time to please Meldy. The feast this time was beginning just after sundown so that families would still have the chance to celebrate on their own afterward, so Sarah stayed in bed past noon, knowing over half her day would be spent preparing.

Meldy wasted no time getting her in a bath. Sarah soaked for nearly an hour, then was removed to have her hair dried and nails painted. Following that she was dressed in her undergarments, including a corset, stockings, camisole, and chemise. Then Meldy took on the task of arranging her hair, first curling it then set it at the base of her head in a heavy knot consisting of a series of braids and twists held into place by pins tipped with crystal chips.

Next came the makeup. Sarah enjoyed the feeling of the brushes against her skin, so she did not mind sitting for so long as Meldy painted on various cosmetics. She took after her mother in her appreciation of makeup, and had a large collection at home, carefully organized in her vanity, though here in the Underground she'd refrained from wearing it too often. There just didn't seem to be any point. When she got the chance, it was usually Meldy who applied it, as she was more familiar with the Underground fashions.

"Not too much," Sarah asked as the goblin considered the various pots and jars. "I'd rather not look like I'm trying to celebrate Halloween."

The maid shook her head. "Your silly human holidays. Most cultures have at least a notion of what the Samhain is about, but this idea of costumes…"

"It's fun," Sarah insisted. "I promise. Trick or treating and candy, all of the parties and parades, it's all a lot of fun. I always loved picking out my costume."

"Hm." Meldy was unconvinced.

The seamstress arrived with her dress - it had been ordered last minute when Meldy decided that none of Sarah's existing gowns would suit. Sarah had protested restraint - "I've got nearly a dozen of these things," she'd said, swatting a tulle skirt as she pushed past it. "Surely enough!" - but the maid had insisted. Samhain was different. She wanted Sarah to look her very best. Sarah got the distinct feeling her maid was not telling her something.

Treda took the gown out of the bag gently, laying on the bed with great care. Then she and Meldy stood back, letting Sarah look.

The main body of the dress was of a dark material shot through with metallic threads of silver and blue that caught the light. The collar rose up in the back in a dramatic fan of an opalescent blue. The neckline was a daring "v", offset by long, tight sleeves of velvet that matched the bodice. The rest of the dress was relatively close-cut, belling out once it reached her calves, nothing like the ballgown she'd worn at the equinox. A silver belt sat above the hips with one long tail stretching out to the bottom of the dress, creating a "y" shape.

Breathless, Sarah stroked the fabric, in awe. It was a dark and dangerous dress, too, too much for her. She could envision the swell of her bosom, the way the material would stretch out over her hips. It was not a "Sarah Williams" dress. It was a "Goblin Queen" dress.

"Are you sure -" Her voice caught for a moment before she composed herself. "This is appropriate? It seems awfully -"

"You will look splendid," Treda assured her.

Meldy swiftly agreed. "You will outshine them all."

"That was not my goal," she croaked.

It was even worse when she put it on. The dress fit like a glove. She couldn't stop looking at herself. The drama and darkness were infused in every stitch. Her eyes, lined darkly and deep shadows, stared out with apprehension.

"What kind of night-creature have you turned me into?"

"You'll be far better dressed than them," Meldy scoffed. "The Night Folk are very austere. Nothing but black and white, entirely colorless people."

"Surely there must be something less…" She couldn't find the words.

"There isn't time," Treda said with finality as she finished the last buttons. "You're to meet his majesty in just a few minutes. And to change the dress we'd have to put you in all new stockings, corset, not to mention makeup."

Sarah felt like the pair were bluffing. Conspiring against her. Stockings did not need to be changed. Still, she was never going to get out of this thing on her own (and maybe that was their plan). She let them put on the final touches in a bit of the huff. Even when Meldy brought forth a case of jewelry and clasped a gorgeous jet necklace round her neck, paired with perfect drops for her earrings, Sarah couldn't break a smile.

Tonight she met Jareth on the landing of the staircase overlooking the double doors to the great hall. She had a hard time moving due to the tightness of the dress, so she was forced to take small steps, prolonging her motion. Jareth had plenty of time to gape. And gape he did.

Sarah avoided his gaze as she moved towards him, looking just past his ear. She didn't meet his eyes until she was standing before him. 

"Sarah," he managed before she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Laugh it up. This is what _your_ maid put me in."

"I'm not laughing," he said, breathlessly. There was no defensiveness. "You...this will certainly suit the festivities."

"That's good, I suppose," she said, rubbing her arms. "I feel quite uncomfortable."

"Why? You look utterly beautiful." He looked fearsome himself, head-to-toe in black with a long coat that reached his boots, along with heavy boots and a cape with a high collar that curled back dramatically, held with a silver clasp just below a scarlet cravat.

"Despite the fabric, I do feel rather exposed."

This struck him as confusing, and as he moved to take her hand, he said quietly, "I am sorry for that. But know that you do look wonderful. Like a queen."

Sarah squeezed his hand. His words were meant to be comforting. They felt heavy on her chest. She was determined to ignore that pressure. Taking a breath, she allowed herself to be led down the stairs and into the dining hall.

The colors were far darker than they had been at the equinox. Everything was shades of black and grey, dark blues and maroons. As this was a smaller party, announcements were not necessary and they started eating immediately. Sarah felt eyes on her, which was nothing unusual, the tone of the gazes felt different. When she looked out at them she couldn't discern what they wanted. She simply lifted her chin, staring back out without blinking.

"They're starting to respect you, I think," Jareth said quietly. "You don't partake in gossip and you don't let them forget who you are."

"I should think that they would loathe me for it." Her studies so far had shown her that when it came to humans, the Underground had very little regard or use for them. The Goblin Kingdom was relatively sympathetic, but just about everyone else wasn't a fan. And they were certainly were not a fan of a human coming in a claiming a seat that many would see a rightfully another fae's.

"You're exceeding their low expectations." His voice was amused. "You're much more respectable than they would have guessed. Many of them have never seen a human before you.."

Sarah was not sure what to say to that. He was clearly pleased that they were starting to see her as a true contender for the throne. She, on the other hand, had mixed emotions. On one hand, she did not really care what they thought of her. Being queen was not an aspiration she held. On the other hand, she felt strangely glad that they might consider her.

Jareth had explained a few weeks ago that they were not considered formally betrothed - there was a ceremony for that, one was he was not keen to push her into should she not wish it. He had been surprisingly patient since their talk months ago when she had begged that they start with friendship. He had not mentioned marriage unless she brought it up first, though it was made known since the equinox that they were vaguely intended.

Thankfully, there was minimal dancing tonight. Sarah wasn't certain she could have handled it in this dress. As the festivities were much more casual, the king need not open the dance. A mild-mannered duke from some far-off corner of the kingdom had that honor. Sarah allowed Jareth to lead her in a dance with a slower song that did not require a wide range of footwork.

After only two hours things were winding down. Sarah was relieved. She just had to endure Jareth's invitation, whatever was, then she'd be free. As they resided over the last dance, she wondered how long he planned on keeping her.

"Shall we?" he asked as they turned about the room.

"Are we okay to slip out early?"

"No one will mind," he assured her, pulling her from the dance floor, past those that skimmed the walls. "Come."

She followed him up the grand staircase, taking small, measured steps. They turned left, heading in an unfamiliar direction. There was a great deal of the castle Sarah had not seen in her months in the Goblin City. As they walked, her eyes were drawn to the pictures, suits of armor, and tapestries that lined the walls. Particularly when they passed through what appeared to be a portrait gallery. Sarah stopped walking altogether upon the sight of a portrait of the Goblin King himself.

He was seated at his throne. Dressed in a formidable black cloak, grey trousers, and a simple white poet's shirt, he didn't look so different. His hair was a little tamer, face a touch thinner, expression caught between boredom and condescension. Regardless, he was utterly captivating.

Jareth doubled back to see what she was looking at, smirking when he realized that it was his own portrait. "Like what you see?"

She elbowed him in the side, eyes trained on the painting. "You look younger here. How old were you?"

The Goblin King chuckled. "Now, that would be telling. Suffice it to say I'm older than you but quite a bit."

"You look every inch of it too."

He elbowed her back. "This was painted two hundred years after I ascended the throne. That was a while ago."

"Are there any other pictures here of you?"

"Yes, but we haven't the time." He waved his hand. "If you'd like, I'll give you a full tour sometime. But tonight we must be on our way."

"Where are we going?"

"My apartments."

She'd never been in royal apartments and was not interested in seeing them tonight. It was already late - Samhain would be ending in two hours. She ought to try to get back to her rooms soon, else she'd miss her chance. Sarah knew her escape attempt was a longshot, but she would kick herself if she failed to at least make a try. As she crossed the threshold, Sarah took a deep breath.

"I don't know, Jareth, I'm feeling rather ill. My head is killing me, I think I might like to lie down -"

He turned, causing Sarah to stop short and nearly collide against him. Reaching out, he placed his fingers against her temples. Sarah froze, waiting as Jareth closed his eyes, seeming to focus. For a moment, her head felt very cool. Without a word, he withdrew his hands with an expectant look.

"Better?"

Even though her headache was a fiction, her head did feel clearer, lighter. Sarah nodded, a little stunned.

"Y-yes, thank you."

Taking her hand in his, Jareth led her further into the room. It appeared that this first room was something of a sitting chamber with several armchairs and a chaise, oil painting upon the walls, and dark green curtains framing the windows narrow. It was simple in style, not what she would have guessed for the often-gaudy king.

"It is a tradition on Samhain to reflect on the year and gather with loved ones." He crossed the room to light a few candles along the wall. "I know that in some parts of the Above, people observe the opportunity to think on those passed on. It's a misplaced sense of the season - They can feel something is off, and they assume to be a bridge between the living and the dead. They're partially right. Something bridging, but it's between the Above and Under."

"Is it?" Sarah asked innocently. She sank into one of the brown leather armchairs.

The Goblin King appeared amused. "I think you knew that, didn't you?"

"Not at all."

"Some people," he continued. "Take the time to attempt to cross over, though fewer and fewer each year. Less interested, I suppose. Not many humans believe in our kind, anymore. That does make it easier to pass through unnoticed."

"How interesting."

"Come, Sarah," he chided. "Don't be coy. I know you find all of this utterly fascinating."

Sarah simply smiled. "It is interesting, but I'm so tired, Jareth."

"I cannot let you go quite yet." He approached the chair to kneel beside her. Reaching for her hand, he lifted it to his face. "Sarah, I'll only keep you a few moments." With his other hand, he reached into his pockets. Jareth took up her other hand, pressing a small box into it. Curious, Sarah took both of her hands back to examine her gift.

The tiny square rosewood box was inlaid with mother-of-pearl and carved with lovely blossoms. The hinges were stiff so it took her a moment to pry at the seams. She nearly dropped it trying to open it, only to have Jareth save it before it hit the floor. He returned it with a raised brow, opening it with a quick motion and returning it to her.

Nestled inside were two sparkling amethyst studs set in white gold. Sarah gasped.

"It is easiest to see into the Above, this time of year," Jareth said. "I thought you might like to scry your family."

Sarah's mouth was still open as she stared at him. The fae produced a tarnished hand mirror from a side table.

"If you think of them, they'll appear," he said softly. "Hold the earrings and that might help."

Without a word, she followed his instructions. Holding the mirror before her in one hand and the earring in the other she inhaled, closing her eyes. For a moment it seemed as though nothing was going to happen. Then she heard a laugh. Toby's laugh, loud and astonished. She opened her eyes.

Toby's blonde hair poked out from underneath an elaborate hat featuring a pair of large googly eyes. Several stuffed snake-like limbs were attached to his torso. Sarah almost laughed. He was an octopus, one of his favorite creatures. She spotted an orange plastic jack-o-lantern basket in one of his chocolate-stained hands. He was trick or treating.

Karen and Robert came into view. They had good-naturedly put on costumes too - Karen wore a lab coat and Sarah's father a cowboy hat. They beamed as Toby accepted candy with a polite thank you.

"After this can we go home and watch a scary movie?" Toby asked as they moved on to the next house. It was a William's family tradition to end the night with a horror film. When Sarah was young, her parents only let her watch old black and white films that were more corny than scary. Toby was getting the same treatment. Last year, they had all stayed up eating popcorn balls and watching Bela Lugosi's _Dracula._ Toby had gotten sick off of his sugar high.

The memory struck Sarah in the heart. She felt it clench as her father replied.

"There is a toll," he said. "Five pieces of candy!"

"For each of us," Karen added playfully.

While Toby moaned, Sarah felt the pinprick of tears in her eyes. She wanted to be home, in a stupid costume, taking her little brother door to door to gather candy. She wanted to sit on the couch next to Merlin and Toby, wrapped in a throw, drinking cider and watching a black and white movie. She wanted to watch her father fall asleep in his armchair, Karen lose focus of the plot while she crocheted.

The picture started getting muddled, though Sarah was not sure if that was a result of her tears or the scrying was starting to fail. The happy chatter of her family, unconcerned with their forgotten family member, faded. Soon, she was left staring at her own reflection. Red eyes and wet cheeks stained with black-faced her.

Jareth still kneeled before her. He removed the mirror from her, setting on the side table. "Sarah," he beckoned gently. "Are you alright?"

"I -" She didn't know what to say. She always found herself speechless around him.

"I meant for this to be a happy treat." He squeezed her hands. "Not make you miserable. To show you they're doing well. Sarah, please don't cry."

She couldn't stop. The pain of her separation from her family felt as fresh as her first day here.

Jareth sighed. He drew her over to the chaise, arranging it so that she rested against him in the crook of his neck, murmuring words of comfort until she drifted off.

**-XXX-**


	11. Chapter 11

**-XXX-**

"I don't know about this," Sarah said, warily staring at the pony. "I've never ridden a horse before."

"Lucky for you, this ain't a horse," Hoggle grunted, tightening the girth. "It's a pony. And his name is Squash."

"Can't I just walk?"

"No," Jareth said, impatiently. "You cannot. It's unbecoming of a lady of the court and I don't want anyone to get any ideas about your status here."

He was already atop his own mount, a graceful grey horse nearly twice the size of the pony. Unlike Sarah, he'd grown up riding and appeared quite at home. Riding horses, he insisted, was as common here as riding a bike. She may as well learn. It was likely she'd be doing a lot of it.

"It's very easy, Sarah," Hoggle assured her. "You just hold the reins and steer. Jareth will help you."

Jareth cleared his throat and Hoggle rushed to correct himself, rolling his eyes. "His highness." He turned to the Goblin King. "Apologies, majesty."

Hoggle continued to voice reassurances as he helped her up. They were all for naught. Sarah nearly toppled over to the other side and off the horse with a shriek. Thankfully Hoggle caught her wrist before she managed to get completely out of reach. Jareth rubbed his temples.

Eventually, Sarah was settled enough for the pair to start riding. She followed Jareth tentatively, knuckles white as she clutched the reins for dear life. As a child, she'd begged for riding lessons, but her parents had steered her towards music, dance, and gymnastics instead. Now an adult, she had enough sense to be nervous. Jareth found his patience, holding his horse back.

Since the incident at Samhain three weeks ago, they'd struck a new balance. While very disturbed by Jareth's gift and disappointed that she missed her chance to attempt an escape, she'd moved past it. He had been trying to be kind, in his own way, and it was obvious that her half-baked plan wasn't going to work. It was unclear whether he was familiar with her scheme. Sarah was not about to ask.

He sought her out more often, now. With court dispersing at Yule (a little under two months away) he had much less time at his disposal according to Hoggle, yet he made every effort to see her. They ate together nearly every night now. Jareth frequently appeared at her elbow in the library, ready to order and tray of tea and listen to her read aloud. They took the occasional morning walk. More than once she'd entertained him in the greenhouse, making him help her harvest a few carrots. All in all, they were getting along quite nicely.

When his invitation to take give her a tour of the city, she knew it was a rare opportunity. He trusted her enough to take this trip. Without hesitation, she said yes.

The ride from the stables and down the drive to the front gate was a long one, nearly ten minutes. Jareth signaled to the guards and they opened the gate, allowing the riders to pass through and giving Sarah her first peek at the Goblin City.

It surprised her. "City" was a strong word for the thatch-roof cottages that lined the dusty unpaved streets. Chickens roamed free, along with goats. Sarah coughed as they rode past a dung heap. There were not many building that were taller than two levels. She was nearly splashed with people throwing buckets of dirty water (or worse) out their windows, followed by cries of "sorry" in response to her shrieks. Jareth suddenly looked worried.

Things improved when they reached the city center. A large fountain sat in the middle, and the ground around it was paved. Several market stalls lined the perimeter. Jareth stopped, dismounting and handing his reins to one of the guards that had followed them. Sarah followed suit - mostly, for she needed the Goblin King's help sliding off the horse.

The market was abuzz with life. There were many goblins, along with fairies and dwarves, all bound to buy and sell. Sarah was surprised by the variety of things offered. She always was taken aback by the citizen's blasé attitude towards the king in the midst. No one gave him a second glance. The occasional goblin squeaked a casual greeting - "Hullo, king!" - and Jareth merely waved them on. It was surreal, his lack of celebrity.

When asked, Jareth merely stated that he spent a good deal of time among them and they simply were familiar with him.

"Is that normal?"

"I don't think many other kings mingle with their subjects in such a casual manner, if that's what you're asking, no," he said. "This kingdom is small enough that is no trouble. I know the names of nearly everyone."

Sarah was impressed. She had not thought the aloof fae would bother with something as trifling as getting to know his subjects.

"How large in the kingdom?" she asked as they perused fresh flowers. Jareth offered to buy her a bunch but she declined. There were plenty in the gardens back home for her.

"In terms of physical size? Or the number of souls that reside here?" He continued walking after he thanked the florist, leading them to the window of a nearby bakery. Nodding to the stout, flour-covered goblin manning the door, he accepted a pair of blueberry muffins, passing one off to Sarah. "There are approximately ten thousand folk and creatures within our borders. The size is difficult to determine - when our surveyors try to figure where it exactly begins in and ends in the terms of the Labyrinth, they often quit out of frustration. She is not one to be measured under any circumstances."

It struck her as odd that he should refer to the Labyrinth as a sentient being. But then again, everyone seemed to treat the idea of the Labyrinth as such - the name was said with a definite capital "L."

Sarah was briefly distracted with a stand selling jewelry made of bright shards of sea glass. She ran her hands over a misty green piece set in a rose gold bracelet.

"I traded that from a travelin' group of merpeople," the vendor, a bright-eyed fairy. "They weren't eager to part with it - said it's been shaping up for over a hundred years."

"Beautiful," Sarah agreed. "I understand why they'd want to keep it."

Before she knew it the bracelet was on her arm and the vendor had several pieces of silver in his pocket. Jareth hadn't hesitated to purchase it, despite her protest.

"It's no matter," he dismissed.

"Are you going to buy everything I compliment?"

"I could," Jareth replied primly. "But I wouldn't wish to spoil you."

She rolled her eyes.

They found their way to an unoccupied spot of the fountain, where they sat polishing off their muffins and watching the city center move around them. After a while, Jareth proposed they ride the perimeter of the city wall, at the edge of the Labyrinth. Sarah agreed though she returned to Squash with dread. Mounting was far easier this time, however

At this gate, Jareth bade the guards remain. "All will be well," he reassured a nervous one. As they rode out of sight of the entry, he explained to Sarah the lack of necessity. "My magic is more than enough protection. They accompany me into the city as a mild show of power, nothing. They know it though they are still keen to stay close. An admirable display of duty, I think."

"Do goblins not possess magic?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, they do. But only a little. In comparison to the fae, it is not much to speak of. They and dwarves only contain a small amount - good for gardening and the like. By comparison, fae can control things like weather. Even reorder time."

"All fae can?" Her eyes were wide.

"Only the most powerful," he admitted.

"What about humans? We clearly don't have magical ability. Is magic something that can be learned?"

"Most humans don't have the aptitude. Only a handful come by it. But magic can be given or granted. If a person were to live in the right environment, they could perhaps develop it." Jareth glanced down at her. "It is perfectly feasible that should you continue to live down here, unaltered, you might show some moderate ability."

Sarah frowned. "Unaltered?"

The Goblin King hesitated. "Should we wed," he began slowly, eyes never straying from the path before them. "You would be granted many of the same...genetic traits my kind possesses. You would be, essentially, half-fae."

There was a long pause.

"It is rare, but it has been done," he said softly. "You will change, regardless, the longer you stay down here. The human body tends to adapt. Aging slows significantly. Ailments tend to fade - if you've even been near or farsighted that will likely disappear. Your hair and nails will grow very quickly, and your skin will take on a softer feel. Our cell regenerate and die at a much faster rate. You've probably noticed a few small changes already."

Sarah was reminded of her dress fitting weeks ago and her altered appearance - her glowing skin, thinner face, and bright eyes. She had theorized then that something was happening to her in regards to the magical environment, but not knowing much about the magic she'd put the thought out of her mind. Jareth was confirming her very suspicions.

"Will I...look like you?"

"No, not necessarily," he said quickly. "You'll probably stay much the same by way of appearance."

"Hm."

This was a lot to take in. Living in the Underground seemed to bring new surprises every day, but this was a very, very big adjustment to make. She wondered if there was anything in the library that would help her make sense of this, then quietly cursed herself for failing to make much headway in the history section as he'd suggested. Maybe she wouldn't be so blindsided when stuff like this came up. The thought struck her that she could perhaps find a way to better understand the rules that compelled him to keep her here. Sarah made a note to head to the library after their ride.

The Labyrinth was very well maintained, from the hedges to the cobbles. She wondered if this was also in Hoggle's domain as groundskeeper, but Jareth explained that the Labyrinth simply looked after itself.

"How can it possibly do that?"

He pressed a hand upon one wall, smiling fondly. "The Labyrinth is very old. Ancient. There are, quite honestly, few things that she cannot do."

"You talk like it's a person."

Jareth shrugged. "We communicate regularly. I have come to consider her person-like."

Sarah wanted to ask what, exactly, the purpose of the giant maze was, but before she could, Jareth took on a serious air.

"The Labyrinth is a benevolent force in the Underground," he said. "But this place - it is not safe. I brought you here to let you see some more of this land, but I don't want you coming here alone. If you want to explore further, I shall accompany you. The Goblin City is open to you, the gardens as always, but beyond the walls...It isn't someplace I believe you should go. "

"Unsafe how?"

He didn't answer for a moment. After several seconds he said, shortly, "It simply isn't a place you should explore on your own."

And that was that. They made their way back to the castle, riding through a different gate and avoiding the city. It was lunchtime and they were both eager to dig into the sandwiches that Cook had arranged for them on the pavilion outside of the great hall. Meldy's husband had also provided them with some delectable raspberry-topped cream puffs and tiny iced lemon cakes. Paired with hot, steamy tea it made for the perfect light lunch.

Jareth was keen to know her thoughts on the city. Sarah did not hold back.

"I loved the city center. But the parts before were concerning. The unpaved roads, the sewage, the houses in disrepair with old thatch...it was disheartening. I don't understand. Everything otherwise seems to be fine and prospering." She folded her hands in her lap, taking a breath. "It would really make a difference, some of these changes. I know it's nothing that can happen overnight, but with some time and money…."

He listening to her suggestions fully, nodding at some parts, frowning at others. When she had finished, he praised her observation and instinct. He made an offer that surprised her.

"Someone ought to oversee the restoration. I've had my hands full these past months in trade negotiations with the elves and maintaining alliances with some of the dwarf kings. I have some advisers looking into it, but they're slow to action and rarely wish to step outside of the castle walls. Why don't you try your hand at it?"

"Me?" Sarah frowned. "I don't know anything about that. I mean, building budgets and finding contractors, that sort of thing."

"You can learn. Hoggle, I think, would be glad to help you." He peered at her, steepling his fingers. "I think you would be rather good at it. Just...consider it."

Sarah agreed. Then, he admitted something unexpected.

"In the past, I have not been a good king," he confessed. "I lost my way, neglected my duties...if it were not for my advisers and my loyal subjects' patience, we would surely be in ruins."

"What happened?"

Smiling, bitterly, he sipped his tea. "I was distracted. Something toppled me and I didn't stand up and brush myself off. Instead of getting up, I languished. It was a stupid and selfish thing to do, Sarah, but I did it."

She ran a finger along the rim of her glass. He was being remarkably open today. She wondered what had changed.

"What...distracted you?"

There was a loud tinkling noise. Startled, Sarah almost jumped. Where Jareth had been holding a teacup moments before there was nothing but a clenched fist, some porcelain and tea stains on the once-pristine tablecloth. Jareth stared at the spot where the cup had been for a long moment. His gloves hadn't protected his hands. She could see dark, wet places blooming up, soaking the fabric. Finally, he spoke.

"It was a woman."

Stunned, Sarah stopped in her movement, nearly tipping her teacup over. She managed to save it in time, though her mind was reeling. Jareth had never before mentioned fancying a woman - not even her if one were being honest. Had a been heartbroken by a lover? Scorned? Or had someone overtaken his time with lust? Gulping up her lukewarm tea, she tried to compose herself. Today was going to end in more questions than answers.

"It is not what you're thinking." His tone was dry. "I was...disappointed in love. I offered everything to someone and they turned me down. It sent me into a bit of a spiral for a few years."

"What changed?" Sarah asked softly, keeping her eyes on the saucer. She was reminded that she knew so little about him - his loves, his family, his life before she came.

"My mind. I changed my mindset. I realized that I had gone about it the wrong way. Once I acknowledged my faults, I was determined to do better by her."

"And did she let you?"

He appeared amused. "I'm courting you now, so what do you think?"

Sarah blushed. "Well, I'm still sorry. It's never fun to lose one you love."

Jareth shrugged. "That's the way of things. Life moves on. More tea?"

-XXX-

Their field trip inspired Sarah to venture into the history and culture section of the library. It was a little overwhelming - there were three shelves of alone of self-written records. You could open the latest edition and watch words appear on the pages as things that occurred. Sarah decided to avoid them, for while they were plainly written records, she wanted something a little less ambitious to start with, so she selected several simple histories of the Underground as a whole.

The academics of the Underground were less concerned with pre-history and their evolution. But perhaps it wasn't up for debate as it was above - they were older than humans, and their history was far better recorded, it seemed. Sarah came to know more about the different courts and the various species that ruled the lands. There was apparently some contention between the elves and dwarves, and there used to be stress between the Unseelie and Seelie courts but they now had a relationship akin to that of the US and UK. Merfolk were mysterious, but only because visiting them was quite perilous. They did have a seaside city made for the sole purpose of ambassadorial visits. Night Folk were even more unknown, though that was a combination of their own efforts and willing alienation by everyone else.

The Underground's history with the Above was familiar. There was a lot about tricksters and baby-snatching, changelings, and crossroads deals. A handful of fae made attempts at doing kindnesses towards humans - granting wishes without expectation of payment, acting as fairy godmothers. But those were few and far between. Most of the interactions between humans and the creatures of the Underground were not particularly pleasant in nature.

Apparently, somewhere around the 19th century in the Above, there was a council in the Underground that agreed that all, except a select few, were to cease any kind of exchange of goods and services. The book Sarah found this in listed the circumstances and the people who were grandfathered in. Jareth was included in that list, but his circumstances were not mentioned. Whatever it was he must be of service to the Below and Above, for that was the stipulation. She wanted to know what it was specifically but nothing in the book gave her any clues, though there was a brief mention of " _The Goblin Kingdom's unenviable task"_ in the middle of some long-winded paragraph about trade deals.

After a few days of reviewing more general Underground materials, Sarah turned to those Labyrinth and Goblin Kingdom-specific. Jareth had left her with many many questions. The ongoing history records were tempting - especially the book spanning the last seven years, with the possibility of lending a clue to Jareth's lost love. Instead, she decided to start simple. She hoped she might find some clarification in the pages of the _Abbreviated History of the Goblin Realm._

What she found was a rather dry text that nearly sent her to sleep. It was anything but abbreviated. She briefly wondered if maybe the books were spelled to appear smaller than they actually were.

It did lead to an intriguing discovery. When Sarah fell asleep and accidentally knocked the book off her lap when Meldy startled her with tea. As she stooped to pick the poor book up by the spine a folded page fell out.

The paper was far more yellowed than that of _Abbreviated History._ Sarah thanked Meldy for the tea, then set about examining the paper when the goblin left. It was a list of names and ages fit into columns. The title was simple, in bold font. _Runners of the Labyrinth._ The columns were divided by " _name of runner," "age of runner," "name of taken," "age of taken," "Above year,"_ and finally " _Labyrinth Completed?"_ It appeared the "runners" were primarily women, between the ages of 12 and 35. The taken were all under the age of ten, with names suggesting a span of genders and countries they hailed from. The years went as far back as the second century, and they thinned out quite a bit at the turn of the last century. The Labyrinth had not been completed very often, she found, and the times were all close to 11 or 12 hours.

Sarah was confused. It did not seem as though the "runners" were running a marathon, they were instead solving the Labyrinth that was the heart of the Goblin King. It seemed as though they were connected to the children listed as "taken," perhaps their mothers or sisters? The names and Above-specific metric of years suggested that they were human. But what did it all mean?

It reminded her of the novel, _Labyrinth_ which was currently sitting on her nightstand, where it had been since she'd snuck it out of the library _._ She hadn't thought about it in a few weeks, distracted by other goings-ons. The girl in the book had "run" the Labyrinth for the sake of her brother. Was that piece of fiction an elaborate truth? Did someone write an account of one of these "runners?" Or was this all just some strange myth, misrepresented on paper?

She almost dismissed the scrap of paper as just that - a scrap. However, there was a pair of names on the list that gave her pause as she scanned it for a second time. Towards the bottom, in bold print -

 _Runner:_ Sarah, 15

 _Taken:_ Toby, 1

 _Above Year:_ 1986

 _Labyrinth Completed?_ Yes. 12.59 hours.

She was 16 in 1986, and Toby was one. It was too much of a coincidence for Sarah to feel comfortable. Scanning the list for more details she came up short.

She would have remembered. She would have remembered having come here, before, would have remembered running and winning. Toby would have remembered, even. Their parents would have missed them. And how would they have even gotten here? Sarah couldn't imagine wishing her brother away, as the nameless heroine did in the book. Surely it was just a coincidence...the names "Sarah" and "Toby" were fairly common, she'd even met another Sara a year ahead of her in college with a younger brother Toby….

With some further consideration, she turned to the record books, running her fingers along the spine in an attempt to discern the correct span of years. Just as she came across the right decade, Meldy appeared to dress her for dinner. Sarah was frustrated that the opportunity to better understand slip through her fingers, but Jareth wouldn't be pleased if she tried to hold up their usual appointment. Tonight they were dining with a delegation of dwarves from the north. She'd already seen a few meandering the hallway. They'd bowed to her as though she were the mistress of the castle. Embarrassed, she greeted them as warmly as she could.

Meldy fielded her less-than-subtle questions about the Labyrinth as she dressed Sarah's hair, even going as far as "accidentally" jabbing her in the head with a hairpin to hush her. Sarah scowled, rubbing her scalp.

"I don't feel like I'm asking for anything too confidential, Meldy. I just want to know what exactly the Labyrinth does. It's massive, it's old, surely it does something?"

"That's a question for his highness," the maid said primly, spraying a touch of perfume onto Sarah's wrist. She met Sarah's eyes in the mirror, bushy brows raised. It was a dare.

Thoroughly cowed, Sarah frowned at her nails. They both knew Sarah had barked up that tree with no success. She wasn't keen to try it again.

It was starting to wear on her, though, all of the things he wasn't saying. Whether it be "rules" or his own preference, Sarah felt like she was always left to see only half the picture. Over the last few weeks, it was becoming more and more clear that she was missing a massive about of context when it came to the inner-workings of the Goblin Kingdom.

**-XXX-**


	12. Chapter 12

**-XXX-**

The dwarves reminded her of Hoggle - they lacked conventional manners, but they were great fun. Jareth had provided a cask of mead to sit right in the middle of the room, and they drank deeply. They encouraged Sarah to follow suit and for once, she did.

She'd only had a glass or two of mead before she came to the Underground. It had been at a boyfriend's Dungeons and Dragons game and she had not liked it. But that had been something out of a can, flavored with ginger. Here the beverage was floral and sweet, the bubbles bursting on her tongue. Across the room, Jareth's eyes were often glazed with the efforts of remaining diplomatic, but they did occasionally met hers. Amusement and warning sat in his mismatched gaze. " _Pace yourself."_

Sarah felt that while getting progressively drunk would serve as a nice middle finger to the monarch who was getting on her nerves, it would not ultimately be a good idea. Underground booze was strong - the immortals could handle their liquor far better than humans. She wasn't about to continue to challenge her limits. While she did not have any obligations in the next day - or even for the foreseeable future - she was not in the mood to be nursing a hangover.

The dwarves were convincing, though. A bright-eyed and bearded delegate name Killian was by her side all night, amusing her with stories about his journey to the east to find a merperson in his youth. He wanted to marry one, he claimed, and bring them back to the mountains. Sarah found herself laughing nearly to tears. Jareth's eyes seemed to zoom in on every casual touch between the two, though he did not move.

"And then, when I was let into the court, they were not remotely interested in any of the treasures I'd brought! None of the gems, none of the gold. Just the flatware," he cried with a great laugh. "All of them, obsessed with the forks and spoons. Apparently, they had nothing of the sort, just some shells. So we built a bit of a friendship on that. I still send them some every Yuletide."

Perhaps it was the drink or the company, but this was the first time she felt relatively at-ease in her role as Jareth's betrothed. The dwarves weren't nearly a snooty as the elves or fae she'd mostly encountered. They were far closer to the friendly goblins that she saw every day. But they too had felt alienated by the others.

"Snobs," a large-eared Gryan spat as he speared some of the beef that was served as the main course. He was a cousin to the dwarf king of the White Mountains. "The lot of them. King Jareth's a fine exception, a fae that treats the goblins as equal. It's the reason his court is often hosting, it's neutral ground. Not like the Day or Night courts. All right snobs, looking down their long noses."

A young Treg agreed quietly, his brown eyes dark under furrowed brows. He was the newest member of the party and it was his first trip to the Goblin Kingdom. "They would never host us in their courts for anything other than business."

"Why are they so rude?"

Killian shrugged. "They simply see us as too different. Inferior. I think there is some jealousy. Our good looks." He winked rakishly at Sarah.

Gryan rolled his eyes. "I would suppose it has more to do with our gold. The Elves love their forests, but they do have an eye for treasures like ours. The fae have enough riches. I think they just tend to be snobbish. It's bred into them. Present company excluded, of course." He nodded at Sarah, then Jareth across the room, who lifted his tankard.

Sarah frowned. "I'm not fae."

The small group around her end of the table chuckled. But seeing Sarah's confusion they quieted.

"Oh." Casting a glance to Jareth, who appeared occupied with the grey-haired leader of the delegation, Killian lowered his voice. "Has his majesty not explained it to you?

"What?"

Treg appeared nervous, but the other two were calm. He spoke quietly, "Maybe we ought not -"

"He did say that upon our marriage," she gulped, swallowing back some discomfort Jareth had asked nicely that she refer to their potential union as impending, for his sake. "I'd end up as something close to fae. With magic and everything."

Gryan's eyes were filled with pity. "That is indeed true, but the process is a slow one. You've already started, you know. You're much more in-between now, you know. Given your exposure. Humans have a hard time adapting here, you're clearly taking to it well. Though I have no doubt that his majesty is helping you. The process is a little...uncomfortable."

Sarah was speechless. Her eyes turned to Jareth. He was unaware of the topic of conversation that was currently on her side of the table. She could tell because his smile was genuine, eyes losing some of their glassiness.

"I do not think it our place to explain this," Treg murmured, copper braid swishing nervously. "If his majesty has not, I don't think he will be please that we took it upon ourselves to do so."

"You will not have any trouble," Sarah said faintly, still looking at Jareth. "I promise. Thank you for sharing this with me."

"I have no doubt that he merely wanted to spare you some pain, my lady," Killian said at her side. "He's spent a great deal of time awaiting you, I am sure as you know, and suffered much loss. I am sure he is only trying to handle this process as delicately as possible."

"Yes, of course," she agreed vaguely.

Killian started looking nervous, so Sarah snapped herself out of it. Smiling beatifically, she stood from her chair with as much grace as she could muster, skirts swishing. "You know, I could use another refreshment. Would you care to join me?"

**-XXX-**

She was very, very, _very_ drunk.

She knew this because the walls were sliding around magnificently and the lights were shining in fractured rays that were like splinters in her eyes. That and walking had become rather difficult.

Killian had only grown more nervous as her third tankard became a fourth and fifth. He danced with her on command but made sure his hands never strayed from below her shoulders or holding her hands. She laughed at him, with him as they spin around the room. She feels like she had made a friend.

At some point, the man she'd clinging been to was no longer a head-shorter than her and black-haired. He turned tall and blonde, smelling of sage and bergamot. And he spoke her name with a grave pronunciation. Sarah pouted when Jareth told her it's time to go to bed. The way he placed a hand on the small of her back was too comforting for her taste. She wanted to throw a napkin off the table in his face as he bid the others goodnight, smirking as he mentions guiding his betrothed to bed. She knew, even this intoxicated that he was saying it for their benefit.

"I know for a fact that you could just magic us there," she grumbled as he guided her swaying form down the corridor. "But I guess you just want to punish me. Do you like lording over me like this?"

"I fear that the movement might make you queasy, which is the last thing you need in this state," he said, lips tight. "But perhaps yes, I do get some perverse pleasure in making you realize your folly. I thought we agreed that you would go easy on the mead?"

She shrugged, managing to successfully release herself from his guiding hands. Too quickly she reached for the wall. Behind her, Jareth sighed.

"If anyone could see the great Goblin King down," he said wryly. "Trying to corral a drunk, wayward human. I suppose I'll be holding your hair back from a toilet later in the evening?"

"No," she said indignantly. "I am not that bad."

"Right."

It took some time, the occasional break, but somehow they managed to reach her room. To her surprise, Jareth followed her inside. He made her sit on the stool before her vanity while he tracked down a nightgown. They were not her preferred sleepwear, and she let him know, head dizzy, that her loose pajama pants and tank top were in the bottom left drawer. He gallantly fetched them for her.

When she emerged from the bathroom, changed and still swaying, he did not laugh at the sight of the pineapple-patterned sleepwear. He simply helped her into bed, summoning a glass of cool water and dimming the lights so that only the fire lit the room. He even drew the curtains so that the dawn light she loved waking to would not torment her aching head in the morning. When that was done he sat on the edge of the mattress to say goodnight.

Sarah reached for a gloved hand. She could remember that she was supposed to be irritated with him, but at the moment she could not recall why. So instead of being angry, she played with his fingers for a few moments.

"You must get some sleep, Sarah."

She didn't know what the impulse was. One moment she was staring at his long, elegant fingers, the next she had his face in her hands and she was kissing him.

At first, he was frozen. Then, for a few long, blissful seconds, Jareth leaned in, returning the kiss. His arms were around her in a tender embrace. Her breast, tight and painfully aware, brushed against the lapels of his velvet jacket. She was pushing it off, however, desperate to cling closer. He took her chin, tilting further into the kiss as his tongue flicked out, testing the waters. She opened to him, and he pillaged readily. Sarah sighed as a hand rose to cup her breast. She shifted, pulling him further onto the bed, onto her -

In a flash he was next to the fireplace, eyes dark and wide. Sarah blinked, falling against the pillow as her hands rested in midair, holding the space which he once occupied.

Against the dark, his teeth were bright as they were exposed. "You are in no state for that," he said. "Come, Sarah, you need rest."

"I'd rather have you kept me up," she said, astounded by her own audacity.

Jareth smirked but shook his head. "No. You don't know what you're saying, or what you are asking for. Get some sleep."

She made to protest, but he approached the bed to press a kiss upon her forehead. Without another word, he slipped from the room.

**-XXX-**

Her breath felt tight in her chest. Almost directly above her was Toby, teetering on the edge of the stairs.

Except it wasn't the eight-year-old Toby she'd left months ago. This Toby was barely one, dressed in a red-and-white striped onesie, one fist in his mouth as stubby legs bent. He looked healthy, with rosy cherub cheeks. Nothing like she remember from this age. When he'd been sick. The one-year-old Toby Sarah recalled had been a sallow, waxy baby. He had almost looked bruised, considering all the tubes and needles that had been stuck into him.

It was as though this Toby were the Toby that could have been. That should have been.

Anxious, Sarah followed as he made his way down the stairs above was mirrored against her, defying gravity as he toddled about the room.

A room which was, itself, impossible.

When she was young, she'd had an Escher print of one of his most notable lithographs, " _Relativity_." It featured a collection of stairs and arched thresholds, all interconnected, but all defying the laws of gravity. Just as Toby was doing now.

He managed to make his way to a ledge and was looking at her now, cooing. She held out her arms, trying to convince him to just stay - stay - stay -

His tiny toes met the edge.

In desperation, Sarah took the nearest stairs upwards to try to catch him. Her perception distorted as she ran, and when she looked back he had moved. Or she had moved. Or the room had shifted. Either way, he wasn't in the same peril. Regardless Sarah was desperate to reach him.

She did not know how long she chased him, but it felt like a long time. At one point, she slowed to catch her breath on one stretch of narrow stone. A low chuckle sounded behind her, deep and foreboding. Her sneakers squeaked against the stone as she turned and edged back, a curtain of hair flying behind her -

Jareth lingered in the shadow of one archway. Sarah took in his feathered cloak, limp hair, and bruised-looking eyes as he lifted one arm to lean against the stonework. His eyes looked glassy, almost glazed. "Tell me, Sarah, what do you think of my Labyrinth?"

Opening her mouth, she hesitated before answering. He loomed above her, leering. Sarah stood her ground, digging her heels into the floor and thrusting her chin up. She hoped her eyes were at least a little steely as she replied, "It's a piece of cake."

The defiant reply seemed to energize him rather than fuel frustration. The Goblin King glided forward, the cream-colored feathers of his cloak fluttering as he moved, ungloved hand outstretched. Sarah did not resist as he cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

His mismatched eyes swirled mercilessly. "Let's see how you deal with this little slice."

And with that, she was pushed off the edge.

Sarah woke screaming, clutching at the sheets. It took several deep breaths to calm herself and absorb the fact that she was in her bed, not falling into a black abyss. Pulling the covers off her, she threw her legs over the side of the mattress and reached for the glass of water sitting on the bedside table. Taking a long drink, she acutely sensed her hangover headache. With a groan, she slid back into bed. Considering their magic, you would think that the Underground-dwellers would have some kind of a cure for hangovers. But no. When she was queen, Sarah thought as she settled against the pillows once more, that would be her first order of business.

**-XXX-**

A messenger arrived somewhere around midday, knocking on her door very lightly. Sarah wondered if Jareth had alerted the whole castle to her condition or if they had merely seen themselves last night and determined she would be in no state for loud noises. She bid him to enter and rose from the armchair on the far side of the room as he bowed.

"My lady, his majesty wishes to bid you a good afternoon and wishes you to know that he is leaving hence for the Unseelie court in the east," the young goblin rushed.

She blinked, confused. "He's leaving? Right now?"

"Yes, my lady. He's already departed." The messenger took a breath, pulling at the hem of his green and yellow tunic. "He had wanted to give his own goodbyes but he was in a hurry and did not wish to bother you in this time of, er, illness."

Sarah turned to the window. The goblin remained, bound to stay until he was dismissed. She mused for a moment before turning back. "And what shall he return?"

"He did not say, my lady."

"Oh," was all that she said. A pause. Then, "Thank you. You may go."

The goblin left in relief. Sarah, weary from even that small interaction, sank back into her was chair.

It was strange that Jareth would leave without any forewarning. He had never done so before. She could not help but wonder if it had something to do with their interaction last night. He certainly had seemed uncomfortable. But hadn't this been what he wanted?

She sighed. The only person who could answer that question was likely halfway to the Unseelie court. Maybe when he returned he would concede to answer it.

**-XXX-**

Per Jareth's suggestion a few weeks ago she was mulling his offer of overseeing the city's restoration. She had been riding to the city by herself on Squash once a week to observe the goings-on.

At first, she was very nervous to go alone. It took a lot of self-administered pep talks before she felt up to the task. When she took her first tentative ride, she found the same friendly, warm, and a little worn market as before. Everyone knew who she was and treated her with similar casual regard that they offered their king. It was a stark contrast to the court events, where she barely held her own against the cold-eyed stares and whispers of the gentry. Here she could wander, unbothered. So she did, mingling with the shopkeepers and those that manned the stalls stuffed with bright flowers, fabrics, and jewelry.

Soon she could remember names and faces easily and readily greeted those she came across. The baker was a friend, she suggested that Sarah look into rehoming the birds that tended to nest in the thinning thatch. The thin-faced spice seller who guarded his barrels of rare spices recommended that regular guards be installed in the market, at least on busy days. The bard that entertained the children near the fountain with playful songs, sorrowful ballads, and light-handed juggling approached Sarah with an idea for a free school for the youth. "Something to prepare them for life," he had said, spinning a few colorful leather balls in one hand. "And keep them from trouble."

All of these ideas made Sarah thoughtful. The people of the Goblin City clearly had their own notions of what would improve their lives. She saw an intersection between her own ideas and theirs, but she wanted more. She wondered if perhaps she might be able to hold some kind of gathering, a town hall with which to hear their thoughts. Jareth held bi-monthly open court with the aim of hearing people's needs and resolving conflicts, but that wasn't nearly concentrated enough. And she needed more people to attend.

She ran the idea by the ocean-eyed fairy that sold sea glass. A transplant from the Seelie Court, the fairy was surprisingly in-tune with the city. She appeared to like the idea.

"Sometimes that many voices can overwhelm and defeat progress," she warned, packing up her wares for the day. It was late afternoon and most of those that owned outdoor stalls were closing down for the night. "But if done right, you may be able to brainstorm enough to conceive some viable solutions. The city could use some cleaning up, and everyone knows it. It's just a matter of how."

Sarah agreed. "There is only so much we can do with this season's tithe. But anything would be a good start, I think."

As she untied Squash and prepared to mount a few goblin children skipped by waving. Sarah waved back, something like happiness welling in her throat. Having this purpose felt right. She was starting to get excited by the prospect of improving the lives of all who dwelled in the Goblin Kingdom.

When she rode through the castle gates and into the stable, she set about removing Squash's tack and brushing him down. But before she could even unsaddle the pony Meldy appear, her starched and neat self looking very out of place amid the piles of hay and the smell of manure. If she felt grossed out she gave no sign as she approached Sarah.

"My lady, his majesty has returned," she said, expressionless. "He has retired to the royal apartments, but he wishes to have dinner with you this evening."

Sarah looked down at herself. She had some yellow-ish goo stuck to her blouse from the overzealous consumption of a custard tart. Riding made her a little sweaty and her hair was undoubtedly a mess. Besides that, she smelled of horse. Meldy's eyes scanned the mess she was being presented with. Sarah winced.

"A bath, I think," the maid said with a sigh. "I shall call down to the kitchens and see if we can push back the main course."

Thoroughly cowed, Sarah allowed herself to led indoors as a groom took over the task of caring for Squash.

**-XXX-**

Meldy sent her out in the dove grey gown lined with delicate ivory lace at the cuffs and neck. Sarah tugged at the long sleeves as she made her way to the dining room. It was a little cooler this time of year, but the woolen fabrics Meldy had been dressing her in felt unnecessary. She did like the high collars. Jareth complimented it, as always, saying that it suited her well. Nodding absentmindedly, Sarah took her usual seat. He did not seem to want to acknowledge their awkward experience last week, to her surprise.

The evening was like any other - the food appeared, he filled her wineglass, she asked him about his trip. As she listened to him bemoan the failed negotiations with the dwarves last week as well as the dullness of his trip to the Unseelie Court this week, in the back of her mind it struck her that they were getting awfully domestic. Over six months had passed. She was getting terribly used to the pattern of her days. Getting used to him.

"Sarah?"

She blinked, straightening. 'Yes, sorry? My mind was wandering."

His lips were a little downturned. "You sighed. I wasn't sure if you were alright."

"I'm fine, thanks." Sarah reached for her glass, swirling the ruby-colored liquid within. "Only -"

Jareth waited.

Tilting her head, Sarah continued, never taking her eyes off the glass. "I was reading about the Labyrinth earlier in the last week or so. Our trip to the goblin city made me curious. And I came across something odd about it."

"Do tell," he said as he sliced into his goat. Goat, Sarah found, was a pretty standard fare in the Underground. She'd never had it before and she was quickly coming to like it, along with the cheese and milk they produced.

"I found some terms I was pretty unfamiliar within one of the books in the history section. They were only mentioned in passing. Things about 'runners.' It almost sounded as though people were made to...I don't know, solve the Labyrinth. Like some kind of medieval quest."

She didn't know why she had lied. Only, when she finally raised to gaze to meet Jareth's, she was glad she had. His mismatched eyes were shot through with ice.

"That's not a history of your concern," he said shortly.

Sarah was taken aback. For all of his hopes that she would learn the history of the land, she'd not expect such a cold reception to the question. There were foreboding subjects, and the Labyrinth was certainly one of them, but the question of people running the Labyrinth surely wasn't so secret. She's probably heard people talking about it.

"Fine," she replied shortly. "Then maybe you might feel up to illuminating me on the subject of me becoming fae? You mentioned changes wouldn't be so dramatic until we...make things official. But that's not true, is it? I'm not stupid. I've noticed. My hair, it's growing like crazy. My skin looks like it's out of Vogue."

His sudden stillness was very telling.

Not willing to take his refusal lying down Sarah set down her glass a little hard then she'd intended to. Wine swished out of the sides and quickly soaked the white table cloth. Jareth stared.

"I'm not going to take that bullshit answer anymore," she insisted, palms on the tabletop. "If you want to continue this charade of telling me that you intend for me to be queen while simultaneously holding pertinent information from me, then be my guest. But if I am to ever assume any kind of title here I'm not ascending the throne half in the dark. That's not the kind of person I am and I don't think that's the kind of co-monarch you want - and don't feed me any kind of lines about being a consort. I've read enough history to show me that the Underground doesn't partake of any antiquated misogynistic traditions like that. So, you can choose whether you're going to stand by these evasions or start painting me a picture of the things I _need_ and _want_ to know. "

Jareth was still staring by the time she finished her speech. His expression was nearly blank, save for the twitch of a vein near his temple. He did not speak.

Breathing heavily, Sarah rose from the table, one hand going to her waist as she tried to temper her breath. When Jareth made no move to stop her, she walked out.

Meldy wasn't waiting for her as usual, so Sarah spent a good ten minutes trying to get out of her dress. She hadn't realized how accustomed she'd become to the help and how difficult it was to remove the winter pieces in her wardrobe. Just reaching for the buttons was enough to strain her. In a huff, she fell onto the bed, resolved in her anger.

**-XXX-**


	13. Chapter 13

**-XXX-**

She knew that something was wrong based on the way she was dressed. Never in a million years would she let Meldy strap her into the opalescent white ballgown with puff sleeves that rivaled those on Princess Di's wedding dress. She looked terribly princess-y. Something that a younger, more idealistic Sarah, would have adored, down to the crystal-encrusted slippers. The over-the-top monstrosity was only made worse by the accessories - a heavy crystal and gold necklace with earrings and silvery strands that sat on either side of her head behind her ears, paired with leaves that shimmered slightly purple in the light. Speaking of her hair, it was voluminous, curling wildly but pushed back so it all hung down her back.

The strange mirrored wall that dominated the room told her this. She's simply awoken here, standing before the mirror. Briefly, she had considered joining the party behind her - even just to get a better grasp of what was going on - but the sight of the collection of Underground-dwellers, drunk and behaving rather chaotically, was off-putting. She was content to watch, lingering near the edges.

The room was expansive, though it was difficult to discern where, exactly, the boundaries lie. The background was blue, chandeliers draped with tulle lined the ceiling and candelabras were dripping with strings of pearls and gems. Giant pillow poofs sat on the marble floor around the various platforms, where people lounged with full goblets of wine. The music was loud and sweeping. Everyone was wearing a mask,

Thoughts of how she got here and where she was did not particularly trouble Sarah Williams. Something felt off, but she wasn't going to move that feeling along by associating with the crowd of party-goers. She would wait, observe by the sidelines, and only adjust when it felt imperative. A younger Sarah might have impulsively dove into the crowd, asking questions, demanding answers, declaring the unfairness of the situation. But this older Sarah was, if not wiser, more patient. Yes, she would wait until she had a better grasp of the place.

For the most part, the dancers left her alone, aside from the occasional calls of "Come join us, dearie," or "Oh, but won't you dance?"

She smiled at them, but shook her head, declining all offers.

At some point, the tone of the room shifted from lighthearted fun to that of something more sinister. And Sarah immediately could tell why.

An imposing figure dominated the center of the room, descending down one of the many sets of stairs in a manner that fearfully reminded Sarah of the Masquerade of Red Death. All parted at the blue-clad gentleman with the skull's mask and twisted bronze horns made his way through the crowd. There was bowing and murmurs of admiration. Soon, he had a small gathering on either side, smiling and laughing.

There was an edge to the dancers now - their motions stilted, jerkish in nature. Like puppets controlled by a stilted master. The music was no longer bright, the melody spun in a thousand different directions. A more sinister feeling crept up her skin. And though she did not move, Sarah felt dizzy from merely taking it all in.

It reminded her suddenly of the autumn equinox - feeling terribly young, terribly out of place, unsuited for the adult things happening around her. Sarah did not like that feeling.

She began to creep along the edge of the wall (a feat, considering the size of her gown) to get a better look at the man who commanded the room. Her attempts at passing unnoticed failed quickly, for she soon realized his eyes, shining out from the skull mask, were already on her.

At first, he made no attempt to approach. But soon his aims became evident. Sarah thought to lose him in the crowd. But amid the dancing couples and loud music, the spinning of the room increased and she felt even more disturbed. She stumbled, crashed into a group wearing masks of leaves and pointed antlers, spun out, only to be caught -

By the man with the skull mask. Wordlessly he supported her, drawing her near and grounding her against the turning of the room. The dizziness ceased. She quivered in his arms for a moment before composing herself. They were silent, staring at one another in the midst of unabashed chaos. He did not seem willing to speak, merely interested in gazing at her. So, feeling quite unnerved, Sarah did what she found to be the best course of action in awkward situations - talk her way through it.

"Thank you," Sarah said. "I must have lost my footing. This dress is a bit much. The skirts have set me a little off balance. And I supposed the marble floor's slickness paired with pushing through all these people, it was only a matter of time before I toppled over. So, thank you."

He did not speak right away, just tilted his head. Had she offended him? Sarah forged on.

"I apologize in advance for stepping on your feet," she sighed. Still nothing. She continued, trying desperately to avoid the black eyeholes of the mask. They were more than a little unsettling.

"I'm afraid I'm out of sorts here. This really isn't my kind of party. I'm not particularly good at dancing -"

"You seem to be rather at-ease with it now," the man with the skull mask pointed out.

That was when Sarah realized that she was indeed dancing. Blinking in surprise, she took in her arms which were perfectly positioned on his waist and shoulder as well as her lower half, which was moving in good time with the music.

"So I am," she mused allowed. "This is a strange dream. If I mash your toes do you think it'll all come undone?"

With that, he allowed himself a chuckle. "That's not how this works, Sarah."

The small laugh he'd issued was enough to confirm her suspicions.

"Then how does it work, Goblin King? You creep into my dreams and I have no say?"

He shook his head, turning them around the room. "I have been found out. Pity." Long fingers curled into her waist. "You humans have such funny notions about your nocturnal wanderings. You seem to think that there are rules in place made by some higher force. That people like me have some sort of set of guiding morals that will prevent us from seeping in. I certainly don't, not when there is nothing holding me back." There was a glint to his bright eyes. "Curious. When truly, you are the one with all the power here. It is your mind. You make the rules. "

"I don't exactly feel powerful."

"You never do, Sarah," he said. "Until it matters."

She wanted to scoff. Jareth nearly always looked in control, self-aware of his importance. Except, perhaps, when he wasn't being watched. Now they were under the gaze of dozens of people, all of them jostling around and craning their necks to watch the Goblin King dance. Their eyes glittered out from gaunt masks. Sarah shivered. Jareth simply gazed back at them. As ever, he radiated power.

"Why are we here?" Sarah finally asked.

"Why indeed, Sarah?"

The look she gave him wasn't a kind one. Past his mask, his eyes flickered in return with amusement. As ever, he enjoyed causing her these headaches.

They continued dancing, feet never tiring. Sarah took to watching the faces that passed them. People leered, sticking out tongues, smirking. The masks, she thought, made them too brave. With anonymity, they could be as cruel as they wished. Their knowing smugness made her nervous. She stared back, willing herself to appear solemn. Her time in the Goblin Court had taught her well. Still, she wished she too had a mask. To hide.

"What a strange party" she murmured, watching a lounging pair pour wine directly into one another's mouth.

"Is this familiar to you?"

Jareth's question drew her attention back to him. He nearly sounded hopeful. Sarah frowned.

"I...don't know." It did not necessarily feel familiar, but there was something about it that was...tiring. Immediately tiring, like entering the DMV. You knew what was coming from past experience, and just the mere motion of going inside felt draining.

The answer appeared to disappoint him. Sarah made a point of ignoring this.

"Maybe I ought to dance with someone else," she mused. "Isn't it rude for the king to take only one partner of the course of the night?"

His lips quirked, bitterly. "It doesn't matter here. Everyone is otherwise occupied. And I have no need to maintain courtly courtesy. I would much rather focus on you."

Sarah appraised him, licking her lips. Jareth had been determined in his courting for the past six months. It seemed like here his goals remained intact. But perhaps, the rules that guided him were to be bent a little….

"Let's play a game," she said abruptly. The Goblin King's brows rose, but he remained silent, listening. "Dancing isn't fun in silence, or so I've heard. A question for a question, Goblin King. No passes. All answers must be to the questioner's satisfaction."

There was a risk here that he might ask her something uncomfortable. But unlike Jareth, Sarah had few secrets. She had the least to lose here.

Jareth considered the offer as the current song slowed to its end. As the final notes faded he drew closer to Sarah, taking the pause to murmur, "Alright. You first."

The possibilities were tantalizing. After months of half-answers and bold deceptions, Jareth might be pushed to actually answer something of meaning. She could ask about the Labyrinth's purpose. What it meant to be a runner. Why her and her brother's names were on some kind of roster. Or why he had chosen her to be the unwilling queen.

"Have I been here before?"

"Here?" he gestured to the room around them. "Yes. A long time ago. You caused quite a stir."

"I meant the Underground."

"They are one and the same. But yes. You have been."

She'd suspected as much. "Why don't I remember?"

He _tsk-tsk_ gently. "You've had your turn. Now mine. When did you stop believing in fairy tales?"

It was a surprising question. Not to mention a difficult one. There had been a time in her childhood when she'd let go of her childish fantasies to embrace a more realistic worldview. But identifying the motivations and the timing down wasn't as simple as looking at a calendar.

"I don't know if I can track it down to a moment," she said slowly. "Can anyone define the second when they moved towards growing up? I simply stopped rehearsing plays alone in the park, stopped dressing up in medieval costumes. I guess...when Toby got sick. He had this...heart condition thing. It didn't surface until he was about one or so. Up until then, I'd really resented him and my parents. So I'd lose myself in books and movies, and play-act. It was like a wall between me and my problems, all of the magic of fairy tales. When Toby got sick and we nearly lost him, I couldn't hide behind that wall anymore. It felt like the magic in the world was extinguished. Flushed out. Even though I wasn't his biggest fan, it devastated me. I felt like it was my fault."

The pity in Jareth's eyes was undeniable. Sarah pushed past it, surging on. Her hands felt sweaty in their satin gloves.

"Why don't I remember coming here?"

"You didn't wish to," he answered simply. "Now why would that be, Sarah?"

"Is that your question?"

"It is."

"I -" Her head was spinning, though they were only swaying to one of the slower dances of the night. "I don't know. How could I?

"Why would you want to forget, Sarah?" There was a pleading note in his voice.

"What happened here? Something must have happened that made me want to forget, surely...You were there, weren't you? You're the king."

His mouth pulled tight in an uncomfortable line. "It's my question, Sarah, not yours."

"And I don't know. But if you told me something, I might figure it out." Sarah sighed, pulling away. She moved to one of the tables lining the wall, seeking water. Hands pressed against her waist, she looked up at the Goblin King, who had followed. "Why must this always be like pulling teeth?"

"That's rich, really, coming from you," he murmured. "You have endured a mere six months of wanting. I have waited for centuries."

"What have you waited for? That's my question," she added quickly.

One brow rose. "You barely answered mine. But alright." He selected a goblet of white wine from the table, bringing to his lips slowly.

"I told you there was a promise made to the land of a queen. I had thought that promise to be fulfilled quickly when I made it. But fate was cruel to me and dealt an unforeseen blow. The queen I intended to present to court was not to be."

"Was this the person you spoke of after our visit to the Labyrinth? The one who...rejected you?"

"No." His gaze leveled with hers, foreboding. "They are not the same person."

She did not dare ask for further clarification. All of her boldness evaporated at the heat behind his eyes. She sipped her water, letting her eyes slide from his. As ever, with answer came even more questions. But she was feeling a little better. Some of her suspicions were being confirmed as true.

It felt odd that the party had continued on around them, unconcerned with the serious conversation the monarch was having with his guest. As Sarah watched she felt like she was viewing a recording of people rather than actual people. All of their motions felt exaggerated, rehearsed. Perhaps that was just the nature of this place, or perhaps that was how her mind in it's dream-state perceived the circus of royal balls to be so inauthentic. Perhaps it was because they were not real people, but figments cast in the spell of cognition.

"Are you happy here? With me?"

Startled, Sarah nearly dropped her cup. It was his turn. She'd forgotten. Sizing up the question, she set the goblet back on the table.

"I'm not the happiest in my life, no. I don't know if anyone could ever truly be happy somewhere they were being held against their will. But I'm more content than I thought I would ever be when I arrived six months ago."

"What more do you need?" he pressed.

She stared out at the dancers, taking in the painted smiles upon stiff masks. "I don't think it can be articulated. Freedom would be a start. If you're trying to find something that would bring me contentment while still being kept here, I don't believe there is anything that would mend that hole."

They were quiet again after that. Two songs passed. Sarah had been focused on the music so that when Jareth took up her hand, she nearly jumped again.

"I didn't want it to be like this," he said quietly. "If I could have given you a choice…."

"Why could you not? Can't you find another queen?" she breathed. "I am not suited to it, Jareth, anyone can see that. Can't you find someone else?"

His face was impassive, mismatched eyes glassy. "Pick another question."

Frustrated, she considered pulling away. But this had been the only thing thus far he'd refused and he had done so calmly. There was still so much she wanted to know…..

"The book," she said abruptly. "I found a book, about the Labyrinth, in the library. A...play."

The Goblin King tilted his head, listening. His eyes flickered briefly, changing between stormy and confused. They settled and he took a breath. "I know of what you speak."

"What…" Sarah hesitated, struggling for the right words. "Is it real? The runners, the snatched babies, the dangers untold, et cetera. Is there truth there?"

Jareth did not answer for a long time. Finally, eyes cast out upon the dancers, he spoke. "Yes."

Something cold rose in her throat. She didn't know how to feel, exactly, except perhaps not right. Of course, she had suspected, but suspicion was one thing. Stealing children was a rather sinister thing indeed. But, the book almost made it seem like their guardians wanted them to go.

"So you...steal children?"

He did not admonish her for stealing a turn. Still, without looking at her he answered. "In a sense yes. I relieve families of unwanted children. They always have the choice...run the Labyrinth, win, and retrieve them. Some take the challenge. Too many do not."

Sarah pictured the list of names, all of the young women. Young mothers? Sisters? Nannies? Frustrated with their crying charges, at their wit's end, any person might be tempted to call upon the gods to take an unruly child. Even without meaning to. She remembered babysitting Toby when she was a young teen. It hadn't been easy, especially when he was teething. And being a pig-headed teenager, she could easily see herself longing for an escape from her babysitting duties.

As if by magic words echoed in her head. " _I wish the goblins would come and take you away! Right now!"_

Sarah paled at the sound of her own voice. Had she said those words, years ago? Had she summoned Jareth to take little Toby?

His eyes were on her. "Yes. You wished him away. And you valiantly trying to retrieve him."

"Did -"

"You'll be relieved to know you won handily," he said dryly. "And destroyed my city as well. But no, girl, your brother is no changeling. And he was never sick."

"So that was just...my mind, creating reasons for my sudden affection for him?"

Jareth nodded.

At this Sarah made to move against the wall, sliding down the cool stone, dress ballooning out around her as she sank into a sitting position. Several eyes cast her way disapprovingly. Sarah ignored them. Her chest felt tight, overwhelmed.

"Why?" She asked, looking up through tears. "Why must you do it?"

"We have for millennia," Jareth said gravely. "It has been our duty...and in many ways, our torment. Most of these children, Sarah, come from lives of pain and neglect. When my ancestors began, they saw this as a kindness. And perhaps it was. The world was a crueler place, then. But in many ways, it is still cruel. I sought to end it, yet…"

He hesitated, eyes downcast. "The Goblin Kingdom has a contract. A delicate balance we have wrought between ourselves and the Above. When I brought up ending the purpose of the Labyrinth, I was reminded of the children we'd be abandoning to terrible fates."

"Surely there is something you can do."

"I made a bargain," His smile was bitter. "Though some might better call it a curse. And I've failed to make my end, so we sit in a dark place."

"What would it take?" Sarah suddenly felt very desperate.

His lips quirked. Pushing off the wall beside her, he crossed to stand at the edge of the dance floor. "You should ask the Labyrinth."

With that, he cast into the crowd of dancers. Sarah struggled to stand in her massive gown and hurtled after him. The masked people closed ranks, and she was soon shoving, calling out, growing dizzy from the flashing colors and noise. They were pushing her, suddenly. Sarah turned, realizing suddenly the mirrored wall was there, right there and she was moving towards it quickly, too quickly.

She turned back, yelling out the Goblin King's name. Suddenly, all the dancers had large, sharp teeth and black pits for eyes. The masks were no longer masks - they were true faces. Sarah screamed. There was something cold on her back. A crashing sound. And then -

Falling.

**-XXX-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written a version of the ballroom scene about a thousand times by now, I think. It's definitely my favorite from the movie and the one I'm always trying to interpret.


	14. Chapter 14

**-XXX-**

When Sarah awoke she was still in the heavy woolen dress from dinner and sprawled on top of the duvet. Her head ached something awful, and she felt...dazed. Much like one felt after awakening from an unexpected nap, warm and confused, but this was different. Somehow, she felt wearier than before.

The dream had been a strange one, strange and all the same familiar. There was a lot of her memory of it fading now, but she could still recall most of the conversation she'd shared with dream-Jareth about the Labyrinth and Sarah's history with it. Mad things, about snatching children, Toby, bargains, and fairy tales. Jareth's body press close to hers in a dance, breath on her cheek, eyes half-lidded behind a mask. The memories felt otherworldly, even for the Underground. _Crystal ballrooms, now really..._

She managed to get out of bed, wincing, and pull the rope near the fire to summon Meldy. The blasted dress would not come off without help. Moving to the dressing room to start taking the seemingly thousands of pins out of her hair, Sarah paused before the mirror. She could almost envision herself in that cupcake of a dress, chest covered in lace and pearls, massive puff sleeves, great appliques of rhinestone. It was like a dreamed-up wedding dress she might have conceived of in grade wince-worthy.

Still, dream-Jareth had looked at her like she was a fantasy come true. That's how she knew it was all a dream. The real Jareth would have choked from laughter and teased her within an inch of her life. This faux Goblin King had gathered her in his arms and refused to take his eyes off of her.

The thought sent a shiver through her. Despite her frustration with him, Sarah would be an idiot to deny the blossom of attraction that had sprung up over the last couple of weeks.

"It's just because you've been locked away without any other suitable males in sight," she grumbled as she untangled one particularly stubborn pin from the back of her head.

It has just been a dream. A fantasy, concocted after a cup or two of red wine and a long day and a bit of crying. Right?

_Then why talk about Toby? Why bring up the Labyrinth, the book, all of that?_

Had she not been in a magical land of the fae, Sarah Williams might have dismissed what was exchanged in the dream as a congestive display of wishful thinking, however...

It was perfectly possible that Jareth might have slithered his way into her sleeping mind. He'd gone on and on about rules before, how he couldn't say this or that. And in her dreams, he'd also referenced rules...

_"...there is nothing holding me back...When truly, you are the one with all the power here. It is your mind. You make the rules."_

She wondered for a moment if he was, for the first time, able to speak freely of the Labyrinth's power in her mind. According to him, her dreams were under her control. Then perhaps, they were _out_ of the control of those that prevented him from telling her why the Labyrinth must have a queen.

The hypothesis was a loose one, backed only by what could have been a vision fueled by frustration and wish-fulfillment. She could have thought it all up herself as some strange form of comfort. The "truths" dream-Jareth had revealed seemed utterly outlandish, nearly unbelievable. It was hardly like she could ask the true Goblin King if he'd crept up in her nocturnal activities. Therefore, Sarah could not know what to believe until she'd discovered it for herself. Until then, all that happened was reduced to a hidden, locked corner of her mind.

**-XXX-**

It had been some time since she and Jareth had a significant silence between them. Not since she'd arrived over six months ago, in fact. Their tentative friendship had not yet been so tested. This fight - if that's what you could call their refusal to speak to one another - was foreign. It took a few days for Sarah to feel the real pain of it. She had grown grudgingly used to their dinners, his appearance at the library and in the gardens.

Sarah did not see Jareth for nearly a week before she noticed that he wasn't making an effort to find her and apologize. He, it seemed, was following suit and keeping with the silent treatment on his end. To an extent that hurt, but Sarah couldn't be too bothered - she was still very angry with him.

She occupied herself with visiting the city and continuing her research. If Jareth wouldn't answer her questions, someone would, eventually. But even her new friends seemed wary to answer her more prodding questions. Sarah had to wonder if someone had warned them against speaking to her. Feeling frustrated, she resigned herself to limiting her search to the library - for now.

Everyone in the castle seemed to know of the rift festering between the monarch and his betrothed. It did not take anyone long to note her absence nor the king's sudden thrust into occupying himself with court business he'd normally consider petty and beneath him. She caught whispers in the halls, eavesdropped on maids gossiping in the midst of their chores, caught calculating glances from courtiers. Sarah didn't really understand what the big deal was, or even what they thought of their tiff, but she couldn't bring herself to care too much either. What's done was done. One of them would need to break and speak first. It was not going to be Sarah Williams.

Meldy gave no clues as to the court's climate. As Sarah wasn't speaking to the king, she was also avoiding her usual time in court. She was behind on the news. A lady's maid was typically the one to fill in those gaps. Meldy had little interest in such things, for which Sarah was grateful. Regretfully, Sarah saw less of her maid since she was not required to dress for formal occasions as often.

Three weeks in, Sarah was about to pull her hair out over all of the whispers and eyes that followed her around. Time had not cooled the interest in their argument. No one dared ask anything outright, but every interaction was measured, every glance evaluating. People did not seem to consider her to be a villain in this situation - indeed, most of the eyes she caught had something akin to pity in their depths. Sarah was getting sick of it. It was not pity she wanted, but answers. More than once Sarah cursed herself for not making friends with any of the courtiers of Goblin Kingdom just for the sake of having someone a little more "in-the-know."

At the pre-Yule ball, she had people offering dances left and right, some out of some misplaced kindness, others to perhaps gather intel to share with the other gossips. She nearly left, but instead stayed the whole night and danced until her feet nearly bled, a big change from her usual routine, avoiding Jareth's appraising gaze the whole night. He tossed that gaze, of course, over the shoulder of a golden-lipped fairy with blue-black hair. She let her eyes slip away quickly, turned to wine, and continued to dance from sheer bitterness.

Things seemed to finally simmer down with Yuletide. That was when everyone left the court to return to their own estates. The castle was quiet, and Sarah felt more at ease. She had free roam of the whole gardens again, The staff, Meldy included, seemed less stressed. It was moderately more relaxed of an atmosphere as a whole. Sarah did not look forward to when there was bustle again come the spring. Hoggle said that most people returned in mid-March. She hoped by then she might be on better terms with Jareth.

**-XXX-**

Hoggle opened his cramped cottage to a small feast between the three of them a few days before the holiday. Poor Ludo was stuck sitting in one corner, but he seemed content, humming quietly to himself as the other three bustled around the center room.

As they cooked Sarah described some of the traditional Above meals that her family had during the holidays.

"Marshmallows, on potatoes?" Hoggle seemed very offended by the suggestion.

"It wasn't my favorite either," she admitted. "I much preferred them in a pie."

This notion seemed to disgust him as well when she explained it was a sweet pie, not savory. But the idea of decorating cookies was of interest. Sarah promised they could all do it sometime.

"Perhaps the weirdest thing is the green beans in mushroom soup, but it's actually quite tasty. And there is a certain kind of cranberry dish we have at Thanksgiving - that's a holiday before Christmas - that comes in a can and when you take it out it stays the shape of the can, ridges, and all."

She had to backtrack a bit to explain what a can was, exactly, in terms of canned food. They were familiar with the general concept of Christmas - that it was a winter holiday much like Yule, centered around a religion, celebrating a birthday of some sort. Santa Claus was also familiar, and they treated it a bit like a joke.

"A man, that large, down chimneys?" Didymus thought it ludicrous, even when Sarah explained that he used magic. "How did a human man get such powers?"

That stumped her. Thankfully, they moved on to other topics.

The scrubbed wooden table in the center of the room nearly buckled with the weight of all of the food. Mincemeat pies, fresh fruit tartlets, a rosemary and garlic sauced goose, hearty potato casseroles, fluffy wheat rolls, roasted brussel sprouts and squash, succulent pork with an apple relish, mustard-glazed green beans...by the time everything was done, their mouths were watering.

Per Underground tradition, everyone held hands and said one good thing about the year and one hope for the coming one. Hoggle bashfully said he was grateful to have made such friends, and that he hoped they continued on just as they were. Didymus proclaimed himself equally pleased with the friendships he'd made, and wished for a small promotion from guarding the bridge. Ludo also growled "friends," then sang about wishing for new rocks in his garden.

When it got to Sarah, she struggled momentarily. She had not wished herself to become a new resident of the Underground, and she was feeling very lonely in the face of missing her family's Christmas traditions. But she could not deny that she, too, was happy and took solace in their friendships. So she said that, adding that she hoped that the coming year would be more to her liking than the last.

"Here here!" they cheered and with that, everyone dug in.

After all of the dishes had been scrubbed and the leftovers tucked away, they exchanged some small gifts. From Ludo, Sarah got a beautiful piece of purple crystal, which was fitting for she had for him a pendant of glass resembling a crystal, from one of the glassmakers in the city. The rainbow colors caught his interest and he turned it in his hands over and over, marveling. Hoggle presented him with a slightly lumpy-looking cap, hand-knitted. Didymus had a beautifully crafted leather pouch for each of them. Sarah's was embossed with roses, Hoggles with scrollwork, and Ludo's with a simple mountain landscape.

Hoggle gave Didymus a polishing kit for his sword and staff. "That'll work on your dog's tack, too," he added. The small fox proclaimed that this was just what he wanted, and issued Hoggle a hug.

To Sarah Hoggle gifted a gorgeous dagger, with a hilt wrapped in burgundy leather cord and the pommel set with a glossy white stone. Mother-of-pearl inlaid made the crossguard glisten dangerously. Sarah was thrilled. She attached it to her belt next to Didymus's pouch as Ludo took his turn giving Hoggle a small bag of crystals in all kinds of colors - just the sort of thing a dwarf would love.

Sarah presented Hoggle with a set of new mugs heavy clay and a fine kettle, covered with a glossy green enamel. The last time she'd come 'round for tea she'd noticed the mugs were chipped and his kettle was badly dented. Hoggle thanked her warmly.

Didymus's thanks was equally gracious when she gave him the banner she'd made herself with his crest, along with a matching saddle blanket for Ambrosius. It matched the yellow-colored stone Ludo had given him that he intended to set into a belt.

Warm from a happy exchange of gifts, the group shared a cup of cinnamon-flavored tea before saying their goodbyes. Hugs were exchanged, promised to meet up after the holiday issues, and they set off on their separate ways.

As Sarah walked to where Squash was standing, she pulled her cloak tighter around her and gazed back at the house. It was picturesque against the night sky, with glowing windows, vines creeping up the cream-colored stone up to a thatched room, and smoke steadily coming out of a crooked chimney. The cottage was on the very edge of the gardens, so close to the Labyrinth that if Sarah stood on her tiptoes she could see over the fence into the hedges that consisted of the maze.

All looked still and dark over the wall. The waxy leaves of the hedge gleamed in the moonlight. It looked like any other manicured garden at night.

Wind cut through her suddenly, and a great longing to cross the wall. The thought had erupted from seemingly nowhere She shook her head, murmured, "What a crazy idea."

Mounting Squash, she patted his neck before encouraging him forward, onward towards home. She tried not to think about her family and what a holiday they must be having. Usually a few days out from Christmas they did a round of all of the parties in the neighborhood. All of them got dressed up, with cocktail dresses and heels, ties and cufflinks. When she was younger the parties always seemed boring and stuffy, but as she'd grown (and become of age to consume alcohol) they'd become a lot more fun.

A few days from now they'd wake up early - or rather, Toby would wake up early - and gather around the tree to tear through presents. It was always Sarah's duty to make the coffee before her parents would rise, then after presents, her father would make gingerbread pancakes. Toby set the table when Karen prepared a few things for their Christmas dinner with Grandma later.

The memories hurt, and Sarah couldn't bear to consider them anymore as they approached the castle. Yet, left alone with only her thoughts and the sound of Squash's hooves crunching against gravel, she didn't have much choice.

**-XXX-**

The day of Yule came and it started a quiet one. Meldy and the rest of the staff had the day off, so Sarah awoke to a buffet of cold food magically conjuring itself next to her armchair. She thanked the air awkwardly as she loaded a plate with cheese, bread, and fruit.

"...and Happy Yule," she added glumly.

After breakfast, she dressed into her most casual attire - the soft pants resembling sweatpants Threda had made at Sarah's request, and an oversized sweater Hoggle had given her for the holiday. Tying her hair up in a messy bun at the base of her neck, she tried not to stare into the mirror. In the nearly six months since her arrival, it had grown from slightly passing her jawline to nearly reaching past her breasts. And she hadn't had to dress it herself practically since she'd arrived. She didn't even know where Meldy kept the hairpins.

Feeling melancholy, Sarah opted to go for a walk. Sitting around and reflecting up her family's Christmas traditions would do no good. She needed some kind of occupation.

The holiday had reminded her of the portrait gallery she'd seen briefly at Samhain. Determined to find it again, Sarah slipped on a pair of the buttery leather slippers she usually wore in the gardens and left her suite.

It took some time to retrace her steps. The party had been two months ago and the gallery situated near the king's apartments, someplace Sarah hand only been once. Eventually, she came across the suits of armor that marked the entrance.

She wandered in, feeling suddenly apprehensive as though she were interrupting a family meeting. The eyes of all of the portraits were eerily realistic. They were all in varying shades of sea-colors - blues and greens and watery purples. Most were fair and terribly regal looking, astride great stallions or lounging in the crescent throne. All shared a certain haughtiness that she recognized from Jareth.

For an untold time, Sarah browsed the gallery, moving from picture to picture slowly, taking the time to absorb all of the unique features. Several of the more intricate pieces really caught her attention, so badly that she wished she had a sketchbook to attempt to recreate the scene. And she didn't even know how to draw

One, done in the style similar to that of the Dutch masters, had simple and clean lines that she would not normally associate with the Goblin Court. Its occupant was a thin-faced man with dark, brooding blue eyes. His frilly collar was offset by a wine-colored velvet robe. A raven sat on the arched back of his chair and scrolls lay spread on the tables nearby, along with a heavenly looking fruit bowl, complete with a half-peeled lemon.

Another dramatic canvas portrayed a woman with copper-colored hair and a knowing smile. There was something about her Cheshire expression that reminded Sarah of the Mona Lisa. Her attire was nothing like that of Da Vinci's masterpiece - she was dressed in a bright gold and springy green satin gown. The woman's pointed ears were delicate and dripping with emeralds that matched her bright eyes. Hands folded in her lap and nearly obscured by lacy cuffs, Sarah could almost make out a slim metal object. When she squinted she could discern a sharp metal tip -

"It's a pen," a voice said behind her. "She was known for her writing. When she sat for this she often held the pen to be prepared to scrawl something as the artist took breaks, so he included it in the painting."

Sarah turned slowly to face the Goblin King. He peered back, impassive. Unsure, Sarah didn't speak.

He continued, stepping forward to stand alongside her, eyes turning back to the portrait. "She wasn't much interested in ruling, but she was the previous king's only child and if she had not accepted her inheritance she would have lost the throne to cousins in another court. So she made the decision to stay and do her best. And she was one of the most beloved queens we've ever had."

"What was her name?" Sarah asked quietly.

"Calabeth."

"How long ago did she rule?"

"Long before I was born." The area near his eyes crinkled. "Some time ago."

They stared at one another.

Jareth spoke again. "I'm sorry. I know this is difficult for you. I promise, I am not trying to be secretive, but as I've said...there are rules. I am attempting to balance being open with you and keeping us from a place of danger. Please understand. I am in a tight spot, Sarah."

She did not speak, turning to look back at the portrait. Calabeth did not look like a woman to give up. In all of her bright femininity, she looked fierce with that knowing smile.

"I will endeavor to be more open," he said, voice so soft it was nearly a whisper. A gloved finger reached to brush the back of her hand. Sarah instinctively jerked away. "As much as I can be. I'm sorry, Sarah. We were doing so well…"

"We were," she agreed, not taking her eyes off Calabeth's portrait. "But only on the surface, I think. There is only rot beneath. Rot and lies."

He withdrew. If she had been looking at his eyes she would have seen them flash and shutter. But Jareth displayed a remarkable calm. "I have not lied. I cannot lie to you."

She spun to face him, burning. "You have kept things from me! Spoke in circles, if not outright lied. You have avoided and lead me from the truth! If you want to have any chance of my happiness down here, you would show me the kindness of honesty and openness."

"Sarah." The Goblin King was very pale as he reached for her. To her surprise she let him. "I'm so sorry. This is nothing I wanted. There are just things I am not at liberty to share. But you're getting so close, Sarah."

It was not the first time he'd looked at her with such an earnest expression, not the first time he'd plead for her understanding and patience. She ought to have an immunity to it by now. But something struck her - maybe the sad appeal of his eyes, or the desperation in his voice, low and caught.

He held her by her upper arms, very close to him. She could breathe in the sage and bergamot scent with hints of smoke. Closing her eyes, she realized that her eyes stung slightly with tears. Her own hands found his lapels. Pressure against her forehead told her that Jareth was pressing his brow against hers. Relaxing a measure, they both took deep breaths in time.

She had _missed_ him. Missed their conversations. Missed his company.

And oh, did she hate herself for it. This weakness was undeniable. Unbelievable.

He'd taken everything from her. He, and Linda.

The frustration welled in her throat, blazed through her from tip to toes. Opening her mouth, Sarah was ready to let her rage loose again. But then Jareth opened his eyes.

"Forgive me," he breathed. "Please. I haven't slept since - I never wanted to take you. I wanted you to come of your own free will. But I had no choice, Sarah."

At this, she melted. He had been in as much misery as she. He had not wanted things to happen as they had. For months he had tried so hard to simply be her friend. They had been getting on so well….Wide mismatched eyes blinked at her, and all was if not forgotten, pushed aside for the moment. She cupped one sharp cheek, stroking the stretch beneath his green eye with her thumb lightly.

It was something like forgiveness.

**-XXX-**

After the silence had ended Sarah and Jareth spent the remainder of the holiday in each other's company. He took her through the rest of the gallery, outlining a color history of the kingdom. It was more than she'd ever gotten out of him or the books in the library. Sarah was keen to just listen, but she had many questions. Not once did he refuse to answer or redirect. It was refreshing.

Following this, he took her to his royal apartments and they enjoyed a small midday feast of cold ham, rolls, puddings, and wine. Bellies full, they wandered to the gardens for a walk. For once, there was snow.

"There must always be snow on Yule," the king said gravely, though he winked.

Sarah worried about the flowers but he reassured her it would not hurt them. With that, he conjured her a warm cloak.

It was so white it hurt her eyes. Great ice sculptures lined the walkways, glistening against the stark background. Snowflakes continued to drift downwards with graceful ease. The snow was pure and untainted, without any footprints or mud, simply pristine. All of it was unbearably dreamy - a true winter wonderland.

Sarah kept her hands tucked into her sweater. Jareth soon produced a cap and gloves. Once properly outfitted, Sarah realized that she had an opportunity before her. Walking ahead, she dashed around a corner. Concerned, Jareth called after her, hurrying to follow. He was met by a series of snowballs.

Tumbling to the ground from laughter, Sarah felt the retaliation pelt her.

Back inside they warmed up in the family parlor with some cookies and cocoa. Sarah was staring into the fire, enjoying what was perhaps so far the happiest day she'd had here so far when Jareth presented his Yule gift. It was wrapped in wool, a strange half-oval, about as long as her upper half.

Cheeks still flushed from cold, Sarah took the strangely-shaped package with embarrassment, setting it on her lap. "I did not get you anything."

"Your forgiveness is enough," he said. "Open it.

Sarah pulled on the ribbon, pushing the thick fabric from the object, blinking back surprised to see a polished bow, with a matching quiver and what appeared to be a cuff beside it. Lifting it up gingerly, she examined it in the firelight. The wood was blond and bright, shot through with gold. The quiver and cuff were embossed with gold vine patterns to match, both sporting intricately designed "S" symbols on them.

Eyes shining she looked up. "This is -"

"It's important that you know how to defend yourself," he said. "And for you, a bow seems fitting. This one is smaller than average, but you'll need something lighter to start with, build up your strength on it. It's yew. Your bracer and quiver are made by one of the craftsmen in the city, he can help you select a few strings to start with and show you how to polish properly. They'll be a little stiff at first, uncomfortable. Next week Sir Didymus will be giving you lessons."

Wordlessly, she set the bow on the seat beside her to cross over to Jareth. A swift kiss on the cheek followed by a gentle hand, and he needed no more thanks. He simply took her hands into his and squeezed hard before nestling her head beneath his chin.

**-XXX-**


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a little experience with archery, but I still did my best to research for this chapter. Apologies for any inaccuracies.

**-XXX-**

"Keep both eyes open," the one-eyed fox advised. "If you can. And hands steady…your shoulders ought to be straight even in the diagonal, though do not let yourself have so much tension in them. Save that for the bowstring, my lady."

Didymus was very close, standing on a stool as Sarah adjusted her posture. Her feet were shoulder-width apart, as advised, hair tied at the nape of her neck to prevent it from blowing in the way, three fingers on the bowstring in a claw-like manner and two holding the arrow aligned. The leather-wrapped around the wood felt warm in her first few goes were going to be less about aim and more about ensuring she could hold the weapon properly.

She longed to adjust the bracer, which was digging into her arm a little. The cuff needed time to fit her arm, use would decrease its stiffness. Much, she'd been told, like a new pair of shoes.

"What now?" she asked, tightening her grip on the wood of the bow.

"Relax your hold," Didymus instructed. "Then pull the string back, slowly, maintain that grip on the -"

The arrow fell to the grass. Sarah's face was a nice contrast to the green. Colored with frustration and embarrassment, she knew that she was beginning to lose patience. Sarah had always been a high achiever in school, with academics coming easily to her, so she tended to shy away from things that took an unusual amount of effort. They'd been out here an hour already and she had yet to fire a single shot. Didymus was too much concerned with posture and angling.

With a sigh, the small knight sat back on his stool. "Try again, my lady."

This time she managed to do regain her position effortlessly after placing the arrow back on its shelf, pulling the string back to her lips so that she was practically kissing it. Convincing the bow to move with her took some deal of effort, though they'd practiced already without an arrow several times. It was harder with the arrow inserted.

"Your arm is too straight."

Sarah did as was told, eyeing the target.

"Align the tip to the bullseye….and fire!"

She let loose, watching the arrow soar magnificently -

Into the grass with an un-celebratory "thunk."

Her nostrils flared as she strode forward to retrieve the arrow. She had not thought she would be a pro by her first go, but it was still disheartening that she hadn't managed to strike any of the straw dummies.

Sir Didymus was nothing but encouraging. "You did very well at holding your position, and you came near the target. Let us try again."

After emptying a quiver (at some point Didymus stopped her from fetching all of her misfires) she finally hit the mark several times. Three arrows hit the straw, spread across rather than centered near the middle dot. But still, progress.

Ludo lumbered by as she was working on perfecting her aim. He sat beside Didymus, cheering when she hit a target. The encouragement helped her along immensely. By the end of the lesson, she'd successfully made a bullseye. She was just packing up, listening to Didymus speak of the objective of their next lesson, when Jareth appeared.

The too-wide sleeves of his poet's shirt fluttered in the breeze. A brown leather jacket was tossed over one shoulder. His hair was immaculate, as ever, shot with gold in the morning light. He inclined his head to Sir Didymus and Ludo then dropped his gaze on her. His lips quirked in greeting. Sarah hoped her cheeks would be taken as a result of the brisk air, rather than a blush.

"I thought I might take a respite from my work to see how your lessons were going," he told Sarah before turning to Didymus. "How does she progress?"

"Well, my lord," Sir Didymus said, chest-puffing out. "She is a natural."

Sarah shot the fox a look - lying would not do. But he didn't take his hopeful eyes off the Goblin King. It reminded her that this was probably more important a moment to Didymus than it was to her - his reputation was on the line, his chance to get into Jareth's good graces. Sarah felt a little guilty for resenting his overly-thorough lesson. The knight was just doing his best.

"Ah, just as I had suspected." Smiling slyly, he motioned to the bow in Sarah's hand. "You must give me a demonstration, my lady."

She groaned. "I just finished practicing. I'm not good yet, really, Jareth. Nothing worth watching."

In response, he conjured a matching stool to Sir Didymus's and took a seat. "I insist. We must get a taste of your progress. Go on."

"Sarwah try," Ludo crooned.

Muttering bitterly, she restrung her bow, whipped an arrow from the quiver, and stood at her mark. Once her feet were placed properly, she prepared the arrow. Gritting her teeth, she fitted the notched end on the string, set the end on the shelf, took a breath, and let go.

She did not make a perfect hit. But she did land close to the middle on the dummy, which was more than she expected. Her arm hurt a little - the bracer was digging into her flesh - and her shoulders felt sore. Lower the bow, she turned back to her small audience and bowed with great exaggeration. Didymus and Ludo applauded. Jareth had a small smile ready just for her.

"Not bad," he drawled. "Not bad at all, my lady."

**-XXX-**

He walked her back to the castle for lunch, listening as she described Didymus's teaching methods. She was surprised that he had a knack - at times, he could be a bit of a blowhard, like some of her older male professors. Too self-important at times. But Didymus was respectful and patient, something that would never describe Dr. Patton and Professor Chan.

Jareth was quiet as ever, speaking only occasionally to agree. He thought Didymus to be a little distracted, but overall a good knight and a most loyal member of the household. He had been demoted at one point, for some mistake, which left him guarding his bridge, but Jareth would not go into details as he'd said it was Didymus's story to tell.

Sarah felt very at home among her friends. From all that she'd gathered, they were each social rejects in their own right. She had always been a bit of an outcast in school, though college had brought with it truer, better friends. Regardless, she still remained socially awkward.

The topic turned. It had been a few days since they'd seen one another - they were approaching the Aboveground's New Years. Hoggle had told her that they celebrated their new year in the spring, so the 31st of December meant little in the Underground. Sarah still wanted to celebrate it in her own way, so she was asking Jareth about hosting a little party among her friends in one of the parlors.

"Of course," he said. "You have the right to invite anyone you please at any time. Speak with the cook, he can help you set a menu."

"Thank you."

He peered at her then, as they turned towards the pavilion overlooked by the balloon, where they often took lunch. "Are you sure you can stand to stay up so late? You look a little peaked, my dear."

"You're always a charmer," she said dryly. "Don't let anyone tell you differently."

Jareth rolled his eyes. "Forgive me for expressing my concern. You are lovely as ever, Sarah, though anyone who knows you can see you're weary. What has been troubling you? Bad dreams?"

She thought back to the dream she'd had weeks ago, the ominous and breathtaking crystal ballroom. Once or twice she'd had a flashback to the moment when she'd been surrounded by eyeless dancers and push into the mirrored wall into darkness. After each she'd sprung from sleep, drenched in sweat.

But it was not nightmares that kept her awake. Rather, it was the books. She'd turned back to researching the history of the Underground and Goblin Kingdom. The massive tomes were dragged from the library to her room so that they could be enjoyed in bed as some pre-sleep reading. But she wasn't about to tell Jareth that.

"Yes, a few strange dreams."

He seemed interested. "Anything of note?"

"Not really," she laughed lightly. "The usual - talking blue elephants and find yourself in nothing but your underwear in the grocery store."

Tilting his head, Jareth blinked. "Dreams of being underdressed? Those are...common?"

"Very, in the Above." Sarah took a seat on the stone wall that separated the pavilion stairs from the garden. "It's a big fear. You can stop picturing me in my underwear now, thank you very much."

He smirked, then sobered. "What do you dream of, then? Your fears?"

"Well, not things I'd realized were fears." She considered as the king sat next to her. "Falling a bit. And dancing, I suppose."

"I could have told you that you feared dancing," Jareth said, eyes dancing. She elbowed him gently.

"I guess it would make sense. I'm in a ballroom, it fits."

"Surely not my ballroom?" He seemed offended. She had, as the months passed, gotten a little more relaxed in the functions that ruled their time when the court was about. The ballroom that overlooked them now was less of a torture chamber than it had been months ago. It was steadily becoming something that she commanded, rather than coward from. She'd started opening the dances with ease, and knew more than twenty people by name.

"No, no. A different one. Sort of...sparkly, with lots of crystals and mirrors everywhere. It was a little familiar," she admitted. "But that's how it always is in dreams, right? Your mind pulls from what it knows to build the setting."

"We do not study dreams here as you do above. You are very academic about what goes on in the mind, all of that chemistry. We care far more about what's being dreamed."

"What do you think of my strange dreams, then? What does it say that I dream of dancing with masked men in glittery ballrooms?" She meant the question as a joke, but he took it far more seriously than she'd intended.

Jareth considered for a moment. "Masks and dancing...I think that perhaps some truths are coming to you, Sarah Williams. Whether you see them or not."

This cryptic answer left her a little speechless, for she knew not what to say until Jareth ushered her to the bistro table that appeared laden with lunch.

**-XXX-**

It was three days later when she awoke to a soft noise in the middle of the night. With a start, Sarah sat bolt upright when she saw the figure by the mantle. Meldy had left a fire going, and while it was mere embers at this point, there was still enough light to outline Jareth lounging against the tile. Sarah blinked at him, rubbing her eyes, dazed.

"What, may I ask, are you doing in here?" she asked, pushing back the duvet and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "It's quite late, and more than a little impolite to pop into people's bedrooms unannounced."

"I did use the door," he said, defensive.

"I didn't see you," Sarah replied primly. "Were you not the one remarking on my lack of sleep a few days ago?"

Were it any other man, she might have been scared. Jareth could certainly be menacing, and he definitely had something like a sexual interest in her but didn't loom or exude an aura demand. In fact, out of all the someones who had invaded her space without permission, he was perhaps the least-threatening. He had not moved from his spot by the fire and calmly waited for her to pull on a dressing gown before fully looking at her.

Tying the robe on with fumbling fingers, she crossed to stand on the other side of the mantle. The faded light gave a harsh contrast to the lines of the Goblin King's face. Sarah resisted the urge to reach out and smooth that sharp cheek. She swallowed, looking at the fire.

"What do you need that could not wait until morning?"

"I was summoned this evening," he said slowly. "For something that is a...less-pleasant duty of the Goblin King."

"Oh?"

He ignored her, continuing. "There have been things I could not tell you, but I think now I might have found a way to show you."

Her eyes grew wide. Sarah realized then that he was dressed strangely - in dark, harsh clothes. The striking cloak with a high, curled, stiff collar caught her eye first. The rest of the fabric was gauzy and a dark blue-black, tattered, shot with silver. The rest of his clothes were black, including the heavy chest plate where the horned crescent pendant sat center. His boots were heavy and laced with leather. The fair hair was shot through with streaks of blue and black, and his eyes were lined, emphasizing their otherworldliness.

It was an outfit unlike any she'd ever seen before. Intimidating, dark, and of a gruesome power. He looked like he was about to wage war upon someone. Sarah just hopped it was not her.

"What are you going to show me?" she asked softly. Without really meaning to she'd drawn closer, putting a hand on one of the leather cuffs tied to his arm.

"Something I am not proud of," he said. "Something terrible, Sarah."

As was often the case, she did not know what to say. Did he want her permission? A blessing of some sort? She squeezed his wrist. One gloved hand covered hers. She was staring at them when the hand moved to her chin, gently forcing it up.

"I would ask you to wait until I can explain things. It will not be easy to see, but I promise you, every second of this pains me. But I need…." He took a breath, eyes unfocused for a moment. "You must see."

"Jareth." She touched his cheek. "What are you going to show me?"

He sighed into her touch. "You'll see."

With that, they were gone.

**-XXX-**


	16. Chapter 16

**-XXX-**

The apartment was dingy and poorly lit. Sarah noticed immediately that the electric outlets were different. They were somewhere outside of the United States. The wallpaper - floral, outdated - was peeling. A cracked ceiling looked like it often leaked, with brown stains along the edges. Chipped linoleum was faded in color, but it looked to Sarah like it was also kind of floral with a marbled sort of texture. Everything looked old and desperate.

There was a baby crying.

No, not a baby - a toddler. Two, maybe three. Strapped to a wooden highchair, kicking chubby thighs. The red, tear-stained cheeks broke Sarah's heart. A few small teeth poked out of the open, bleating mouth. It looked as though it had been abandoned, for it had clearly been in the chair for hours. The child's face was worn and dirty. Tufts of hair were pulled up from its pale skull. There was a smell Sarah immediately associated with the days of Toby's infancy - a ruined diaper. A cup of milk was on the floor just out of reach, tipped over, and the milk had spread out, congealing against the linoleum.

Sarah longed to go to it, hold it, soothe the child with a hand rubbed against its back. She moved forward and an iron arm barred her back. Jareth did not look at her, but he knew what she wished to do instinctively.

Sarah looked down at his arm and realized that she was no longer in her nightgown and robe. Her new outfit reflected his - heavy and dark. Fingers encased in black gloves, a swirling midnight cloak, and a figure-hugging dress slit nearly to her thigh, under which were leather leggings tucked into boots that looked like they were made to crush small animals. She flexed her fingers, staring at them in wonder.

Another sound caught her attention. A snuffling sort of noise, by the TV in the corner of the living room area. The space was bare, which made Sarah surprised that she had missed the sight of another child, tucked between the television and the wall. This was a girl, wearing only an oversize, stained t-shirt with a cartoon character on the front. Her light hair was to her shoulders, slightly matted, and her face was dirty too.

Jareth moved forward then, gliding. His shadow was long and fell over the child cowering in the corner. Silent, he held out a hand. After a moment, a small, shaky hand extended to slip into his. He helped her up, walking slowly across the room to her.

Softly, in a lilting language unfamiliar to her, Jareth spoke to the child as he drew near the crying baby. The girl stood beside her sobbing sibling, putting one hand on the tray of the high chair, then pointing down the narrow hallway to the left of the kitchen. Jareth asked her another question and she nodded. Continuing to speak, Jareth brought up his hand. The child winced - breaking Sarah's heart - but Jareth was patient. He brought his fingers together and suddenly, by magic, there was a crystal orb. The girl accepted the gift with wide, wondrous eyes. Sarah wondered what she saw within.

He gestured to Sarah. She hesitated before following, not wanting to leave the children. Jareth assured her quietly that it would be alright. She must come.

They moved down the narrow hall, the floor creaking even though they were light of foot. A flickering bulb hanging shielded from the ceiling offered a scant amount of light. She wanted to ask questions, yet she compelled to merely watch as he stopped before the door at the end of the hall.

In a bedroom, smelling of piss and beer and something sickeningly sweet, there was a woman and a man. The woman was half-awake, though Sarah could tell she was under the influence of something. Her eyes were dull, glazed with a look that did not bode well. Long, yellow hair that was straw-like and tangled, lay across her face. It was the same color as her eldest daughter. The potbellied man was passed out, diagonal on the mattress.

Jareth spoke, and this time his voice thundered. She could understand him, too, strangely. For she knew that it was not English he spoke.

"You have wished your children away and I have come to collect, Ana."

The woman on the bed blinked, pulling her legs to her chest, dazed. She said something that sounded like a question. " _What? Huh?"_

Sarah could not help but feel a level of pity for this woman. Poverty was a cycle. She likely did not pick this life for herself. But she could have done better by her children.

Though he radiated power, Jareth was patient. "You have wished your children away, Ana. I've come to take them unless you wish to fight to have them returned."

And then the scene changed. The sky was the color of freshly spilt blood, set against a desert landscape with barren, skeletal trees and scrubby bushes stuck up from the orange sand. They were on a hill, overlooking the Labyrinth. Sarah did not realize how expansive it was. She could see all the way to the castle in the distance. It looked much more impressive from this view. She could see levels of stone, forest, and the gardens. It looked like something from a fantasy movie.

Ana, with her dank hair and glassy eyes, was kneeling below them. She did not look as perturbed as Sarah might have expected. It felt a little unfair. She was in no state to understand what was happening.

Wind was blowing Jareth's hair back from his face. The light made his face look younger. Unlined. Impassive as always.

"You now have a choice. You can relinquish your children to me, or you can look for him in my Labyrinth. You will have thirteen hours."

" _Erlkönig,"_ Ana whispered, turning her face up. She shuddered when Jareth drew closer, looming until his shadow fully engulfed her.

"Ana," he said. "You must choose. Will you run my Labyrinth for your children?"

Ana began rocking back and forth. She had finally closed her eyes.

"Ana," Jareth said again.

"No," she moaned, face ashen. "No, no, no." Sarah could understand that.

"Very well," Jareth intoned. "Such a...pity."

**-XXX-**

What happened next was a blur. The Labyrinth scene was gone. They were back in the dark room with broken blinds and bare mattress and the smell of piss. She could hear the children crying in the kitchen. Without another thought, Sarah turned and left the room. Jareth might have business left, but she couldn't let them sit and cry alone any longer.

The baby smelled - she had been clearly sitting in a full diaper for a while. Holding her breath, Sarah scooped her up, making small soothing noises. After a moment the child slowed her crying, reduced to making breathy, hiccup-like noises. Sarah stooped to the other girl's level, wishing she could speak the language. So instead she reached out to smooth back some of that messy hair. The girl looked at her with wide, watery eyes. She still held the orb clutched between her two small hands.

Suddenly Jareth was over them. He lifted up the elder child. Easily hitching her up to his hip, as though he'd done it a thousand times, he had nearly softened from the encounter in the bedroom. She was surprised to see the elder girl push her head back against the Goblin King's shoulder with no hesitation. Considering her circumstances and despite Jareth's intimidating appearance, she would have thought any child to be scared witless.

"Come," he said to Sarah. Balancing the baby with one hand she took his arm in the other.

With that, they were in the city center of the Goblin Kingdom. All was as they'd left it - it was night, the stars were high and glinting off the gurgling fountain at the center of the market. Confused, Sarah held the baby against her hip, looking up at the king. "Why are we here?"

He was silent, merely gesturing for her to follow.

As they walked, the full moon cast their shadows against the cobbles. Sarah thought that perhaps from distance they looked like a kind of family. It made her heartache a little. What would happen to these girls?

Jareth lead them to one of the residences off of one of the main streets. Sarah had never ventured here before but even in the dark, it felt like a cozy community. There was at least one flower pot on every step and many residences had more bursting from boxes along their windows. The house that they stood before now was half draped in ivy with honey-colored stone offset by chipped shutters of a cool green. The door was painted a cheery blue. Two large pots of geraniums flanked the threshold. It was a little shabby, but warm-looking nonetheless.

Jareth was a head or two taller than the door, so he knocked and stooped to be let in. Sarah followed, ducking to avoid hitting her head.

Inside were two very hopeful-looking goblins. They looked to be about Meldy's age - which is to say, middle aged - and both women. Their eyes were automatically on the children.

"My lord," one of them said, the goblin with darker skin and piercings on each ear. "We were very excited to hear from you. Are these….?"

"Inga and Zoya," he said, indicating the elder child first as he set her down then the baby. Sarah wondered how he knew their names. "Their mother elected not to run. I apologize for waking you, but I knew you would be eager to see them."

"Indeed," said the other goblin, who had reddish hair and was wearing slippers. "It is no trouble, majesty, we must thank you. May I…?" She turned to Sarah, arms outstretched. Sarah bent to lower the child into the goblin's arms. The child was almost half the size of her new guardian. The other goblin approached the elder girl, Inga, holding out a shawl to the shivering child.

"They are likely hungry," Jareth said. "And they certainly need a bath. But we'll leave you be. It is very late."

"Of course my lord, thank you." The goblin with darker skin bowed. Jareth smiled, wished them a good evening, promised to stop by again soon to check on the girls, and he led Sarah back outside. She wanted to say goodbye, hug them, something, but they were being shuffled away just as she was.

Instead of sending them magically back up to the castle, Jareth seemed determined to walk. Sarah trailed after him slowly. There were about a thousand questions running through her mind. The Goblin King did not seem particularly interested in conversation, however, so they made their way down the cobbles, through the gates, up the gravel and the lovely line of perfectly pear-shaped trees, then through the stables, all in silence. They finally stopped in the kitchens, which were empty this time of night.

He began making tea, to her surprise. He effortlessly moved through the cupboards, finding a kettle and pour-over infuser. Sarah watched as he carefully measured out the leaves then set out sugar jars and a small pitcher for creamer, along with spoons, cups, and saucers. A plate of peach scones appeared before her just as Jareth was pouring the water into the cups. It was very humble, even with the gold-rimmed teacups and perfectly formed scones. The table was a simple scrub work table, probably where Meldy's husband, the pastry maker, and the cook ate their dinners.

When Jareth sat, his baby-snatcher outfit seemed to melt away in favor of a cream-colored shirt beneath a vest, with his usual leggings and boots. Sarah's did as well, though thankfully she was not in her nightgown but a jumper and pants, complete with slippers.

She put her hands around the teacup, letting the heat sink into her skin. Jareth sipped his own tea thoughtfully, staring at the fireplace that overwhelmed the wall across from him. He looked a little more at ease. Or, at least, less intimidating.

"Is this -" Sarah swallowed. "Is this why the Labyrinth exists? Why you do not want me to go in it alone? It's a...test, a challenge, for people whom you steal children from? It is dangerous, then?"

Purposefully, he set his teacup in its saucer. "There are many things involved in the Labyrinth's existence. This is a primary function, yes. The monarch of the Goblin Kingdom and the Labyrinth has provided this service for hundreds of years."

"And this service," Sarah said coldly, restraining herself from spitting out the words. "Does it make you feel like you're contributing to the world in a positive way? That you're taking care of the poor, stupid humans of the Above?"

Jareth sat very still and looked abnormally pale. "It's. Not. Like. That." Each word was clipped. Pronounced. He stared at the table, hands laying on either side of his teacup and saucer, framing them elegantly. "Do not speak as though it is something I relish or take great delight in. You don't know what you're talking about, Sarah. But that's too often the case with you."

He was hurt and lashing out. After laying his shame out bare, she had still rejected his pain, refused to see it. She needed to calm down.

"Then explain it to me. Explain why this is necessary."

"I have tried -" His throat seemed to close up. After a long pause, Jareth tried again. "For a long time, my family has tried to resolve this. We have a….contract to uphold. There is a delicate balance between us and the Above. Children, at times, must be taken. Wishes are made and we are contracted to grant them. But the world had moved on. Neglected, unwanted children are being taken care of in a much more widespread manner. I am not needed, not as I once was, nor do I want to continue. You must understand, Sarah. When this began, it was something we did out of kindness. Unwanted children were brought here, raised by loving families, then allowed to return to the Above when they came of age. There came a time when I tried to find a way out of this duty, but I was reminded of the children that would be forgotten. "

"Why would goblins want to raise human children?" Sarah shook her head. Everything from her dream the crystal ballroom... "It doesn't make sense. In theory, it's a nice idea, but why would you bring them here? Why not take them somewhere else in the Above."

Hesitating, Jareth replied slowly. "Children, especially among my kind, are difficult to come by. It is considered an honor and privilege to raise a wished away babe. That was one benefit of this task. Beyond this, it was difficult to find suitable homes in the Above. And what might we do? Enchant a family to believe this child had come to them or was simply always there? Against their will? How could we ensure a happy home when we were so far away?"

The argument felt flimsy, but she saw his point. Sarah forged on.

"You said that there are fewer children now because the world has changed. Why don't you stop?"

"It isn't that easy. There are bigger things at play than my mere desire." He sounded bitter like this was an old wound. "If I could I would find a way for us to help children like Inga and Zoya without removing them from the Above. I would like to retire the old ways. But right now it simply is not possible."

The answer did not satisfy her, but she suspected it was all he could give her right now. It did not seem to be within his powers to fully outline what was keeping him attached to this unpleasant duty. The rules, whatever they may be, were keen on keeping her guessing.

"What about children who are wished away by mistake?" Sarah asked abruptly after several moments of heavy silence. "Kids who are, perhaps, wished away by a sibling or someone unfamiliar with the effects of their words?"

"It is the same for everyone," Jareth replied. Pity colored his voice. "If they did not mean what they wished, I would not be summoned. But if their hardened heart is truly in it, then I must come."

The reality of his words washed over her. Sarah thought back to her dream in the crystal ballroom, what the dream-Jareth had said about her brother and her history, tied to the Labyrinth from the age of 15 - sooner if one took into consideration Linda's bargain of her daughter's soul for youth and fame. He had implied her memories faded, replaced by less fantastical reasons for her abrupt attachment to a brother she'd previously despised. What else had she forgotten Sarah suddenly felt very cold.

"Is that what I did to Toby?" she whispered, eyes locked on the Goblin King's face.

For a moment, Jareth looked surprised. Then, a mixture of sorrowful and hopeful.

"Yes. You wished him away. But unlike many, you realized your mistake. You proved yourself to be a decent and brave person, Sarah. Because, unlike most who wish away the children in their care, you fought to get yours back."

That counted for something, she supposed. Sarah buried her face in her hands. If it were true - that meant many other things were likely true as well. If she had run the Labyrinth, if she had been here before, and all the things that struck her with an odd sense of familiarity were not so odd after all. That meant the book was true, that Toby had likely never been sick, that she'd somehow forgotten everything. It meant that her dream, the crystal ballroom - it had actually happened.

Gloved hands gently wrapped around her wrists, pulling her hands.

"Put away your guilt," Jareth said softly. "You did right by him. And you proved yourself very brave and resourceful that day. I was very proud of you, that day, watching you run the Labyrinth."

His words did not calm her swirling mind. They were a little helpful, regardless, in soothing the guilt she'd felt welling in the base of her throat. Turning her wrists, she took his hands into hers, staring at the combined limbs lying on the table. Her fingers looked starkly white against the black of his gloves.

"Thank you. It is...a lot to swallow."

"Indeed."

She raised her eyes to meet his. "I can see compassion in it. You're trying to do a kind thing, and in doing it there comes some measure of unavoidable cruelty. For that, I can't fault you. Do people -" Taking a breath, she spoke quickly. "Do they remember, if they choose not to run? Or do you make them forget? Like I forgot?"

Frowning, Jareth squeezed her hands. "I do offer them that balm, the ability to forget what they've done if they refuse to run or lose the challenge. Successful runners, champions, I leave them untainted. Your forgetting was not something orchestrated by me, Sarah."

It was a mystery. One, he promised, they would set about solving.

**-XXX-**


	17. Chapter 17

**-XXX-**

At some point, after the scones were all eaten and only a few drops of tea cling to the bottom of their cups, Jareth insisted they go to bed. Their own, of course, and he walked her to her door. She felt unbearably weary like her head was stuffed with wool. He helped her when she stumbled against the staircase. When the door opened to her room her nightgown reappeared, robe draped on the bench at the footboard. She collapsed into bed with little thought.

Sunlight woke her the next morning and the smell of pomegranate tea. Immediately she wished Jareth was there. She had questions, and being alone with her thoughts was not a pleasing thought. Her first instinct was to head to the library, but it was doubtful books would distract her from the troubles swirling in her head. Fresh air and work would allow her to fare better, she supposed. So before Meldy could arrive to dress her, Sarah slipped out of bed and put on a pair of trousers and a shirt, her boots, and strapped her dagger to her belt. After swallowing a few mouthfuls of tea, she left for the greenhouse.

Before entering the hothouse she plucked a plum from the nearby orchard, polishing it off as she came in. There was no sign of Hoggle or any of the other gardeners. She set about watering a few of the seedlings. Most everything was hydrated on a clever irrigation system, but the seedlings, which were so dedicated, were watered by hand. Sarah enjoyed carefully measuring water into each small square of the starter trays. These were tomatoes, basil, and peas.

Next, she turned to the sprouting mango trees. Hoggle had promised months ago to try to grow this favorite of Sarah's and had somehow procured a few to harvest seeds from. They were about a foot tall now, with thin, narrow leaves. She hoped that whatever kept the orchard ever-productive would allow her mango trees to blossom.

Hoggle appeared as she was picking peas pods. He reached into her basket to snack on a handful. Sarah smacked his hands lightly. Rubbing it, Hoggle snorted.

"You're here early," he said. "Skipped your breakfast."

Sarah shrugged. "I had difficulty sleeping."

"Jareth 'n you fightin' again?"

She smiled into her basket. "Not this time." She looked up at the dwarf. "I think I learned what the Labyrinth is for. And I remember being here before."

Hoggle dropped his jaw and with it several half-chewed pea pods.

Once he'd regained himself Hoggle was wary to continue the conversation. She eventually persuaded him to talk.

"You was here before," he allowed reluctantly. "And I knew you. Didymus and Ludo too. It was seven years ago or so. Wished your brother away and you were determined to find him. We helped ya get you to the castle. Made a big mess of the city on your way through. And broke poor Jareth's heart when you left, it was years before he turned his attention to repairing the city."

"He was heartbroken?" It likely should not be a surprise. She had won. And she had left.

"Rumor is he asked you to stay. But you turned him down." Hoggle reached for his waterskin, taking a swig before continuing. "That's what they say, anyways."

"Is that a typical response to a successful runner?"

"Aren't many successful runners nowadays, and hardly any babies stolen," he admitted. "You were the first in a while. We haven't had one for months now."

"There were two last night," she told him. "He took me with him."

The dwarf's eyes widened. Sarah felt like she had something with great gravity without knowing it. Embarrassed, she turned back to the peas.

"He said that Underground, it's very difficult for people to have children."

"That's right. Dwarves and goblins have a little less trouble, but fae and elves struggle a great deal. No one knows about mermaids or centaurs -they're too secretive. And night people are just made, not born." He sighed. "That's why stealing began. People wanted babies. And anything can be made from human - your lot is malleable with magic."

The thought of twisting babies was horrifying. Upon seeing Sarah's horrified look Hoggle backtracked quickly.

"We don't do that anymore," he said hastily. "When the children come of age that have the choice to stay or go, now. Which has proven to be more helpful. Families with once-humans in them prove to be more fertile than those without. Humans may not be liked, but human blood is coveted for continuing bloodlines."

"Is that…." She hesitated. "Is that why he made that bargain with my mother? So I could…." Drifting off, she let the blank space fill itself in with heavy implication.

"Who can say?"

Who, indeed? Jareth had made the bargain with Linda long before Sarah had come to the Labyrinth

Sarah was realizing that this was much more complex than she'd thought. The Labyrinth had come about as a balanced service to both the Above and Underground. The Above had an abundance of unwanted children and the Underground was desperate for them. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, though without a doubt unethical on the side of the Goblin Kingdom. As the Above had modernized, the number of unwanted children had expanded, but so had services for them. Fewer and fewer people believed in or remember the fairies all too willing to take babies away. The balance had been disrupted.

Something needed to change.

"You didn't answer my question," she said suddenly. "Has he asked other runners to stay?"

Hoggle's bushy brows rose. "Ehhh...I don't think so, no."

Yet more food for thought. Sarah thanked her friend and went back to work. 

-XXX-

For nearly a week she had strayed from her routine of reading and wandering the gardens. She spent far more time in the greenhouse or in her room, places where Jareth never intruded, seeking to be secluded, tucked away. Hiding was not something she'd sought to do since she was an irate teenager. But desperate times and muddled feelings called for some space.

Hoggle and Jareth had both reminded her that she wasn't necessarily among her own kind. Not that she had necessarily forgotten, but the intimacy of friendship (if she could call the tenuous bond with Jareth "friendship") had blinded her to one essential truth - that they were not human. Not like her. Their values and traditions were different, their worldview entirely their own. She supposed the altered perception of time granted with their perceived immortality had something to do with that.

Their blase attitude towards child theft had nothing to do with time, however. Hoggle had said himself that children were rare among the fae. That they were highly valued, treasured. They were treated like precious objects. It was a better life.

Sarah fought herself on the matter for several days. On one hand, the Labyrinth appeared to be a haven, a home for unwanted children, where they could be cherished and loved. On the other, Jareth was part of a system designed to rip babes from their families and change them with magic into something entirely new. It seemed barbaric. The children had no say in their fates, though some might consider their change in species a small price to pay for a loving home. Jareth had reassured her that only the most worthy of runners finished the Labyrinth to take their children back. Usually, those who were young, foolish, said the wrong thing. Always those who were momentarily blinded by weariness, who held true love for the child in their heart.

But who decided this? The Labyrinth? Jareth? Fate? From what the king had said, he seemed to have little control over the situation. Either way, it did not seem fair.

" _You say that so often, I wonder what your basis for comparison is?"_

The remembered words struck her as she watered a row of basil. Memories kept seeping in, triggered by various words, phrases, or images. It was all just puzzle pieces, now. She had no context. She did not know how to take them.

Since their encounter in her dream-state crystal ballroom, she had not dreamed. And since they took Inga and Zoya sleep had almost eluded her altogether.

Today she was tired and the heat of the greenhouse felt oppressive, even in February. She'd long ago removed her heavy outer tunic in favor of the lighter one beneath and rolled up the legs of her pants. Meldy had only just returned them from mending this morning, not recognizing that it was perfectly fine that they be a bit worn. The goblin hadn't made note of Sarah lingering in bed past nine, trying to grab a snatch of sleep. She merely poured her an extra cup of coffee and asked if she ought to lay out the clothes for gardening. Sarah was grateful for the suggestion.

But Hoggle was not. Sarah had effectively run out of things to do, so she'd taken to pestering him for more work. When she finished watering for the morning she offered to pick some fruit in the orchard or prune some of the topiary on the pavilion. Exasperated, he offered an alternative.

"Why don't you take a break? You've been working more than I have this week, and I can't have it. Please Sarah, go to town. Socialize."

He was persistent and seemed eager to work alone. Sarah took no offense. She headed to the stables to saddle up Squash and headed to the city center.

It was quiet, being midday in the middle of the week. There were only a few stalls set up, but the shops were open. She meandered aimlessly, buying a few pastries at the bakery and a book at the bookshop. The milliner's held her interest for a while. She stopped to speak with one of the blacksmiths about building a library, something he seemed quite keen on. When she came back to the center, Inga and Zoya were playing alongside the fountain with one of their guardians.

She approached them slowly, lingering a little ways away until the guardian invited her to approach. Sarah offered them a few of the sweet buns from her pastry box. The girls happily accepted. They did not seem to recognize her as one of the pair of people that had taken them from their mother a mere week ago. Sarah sat next to their guardian, who she learned was called Rhyl, watching the girls. According to Rhyl, they were doing well. Happy, healthy, and recovering from the sudden change.

Seeing the children adapting made her feel better. Surely it could not be so bad if they were in a better atmosphere. They would thrive in the Goblin Kingdom.

When the sun began to dip below the line of homes in the west, Sarah bid Rhyl and the girls farewell and mounted Squash, who had been calming waiting for her over nearly three hours. He plodded up to the castle contentedly.

Something struck Sarah as she was riding. Jareth had made his bargain with Linda long before she'd come to the Labyrinth. Yet somehow she'd ended up here, seemingly unprompted and of her own doing. How had that happened? How had she, someone entirely unfamiliar with the lore, thought to wish Toby away?

This realization troubled her through dressing for dinner and up until Jareth asked her if there was something wrong just as the plates were being cleared. She had been quiet and contemplative throughout the meal and had barely eaten. Even the tiramisu she'd only picked at, spending most of the dessert running her finger along the rim of her coffee cup.

"How is it I came about coming here when I was fifteen?" She asked as he took her arm to lead her to the balcony off of the dining room. The sun was truly setting and the sky looked terribly red.

The king frowned, concerned. "I thought we covered this? You wished your brother away, my dear."

"I understand that. But how did I know to wish him away? As far as I'm aware no one in my family believes in fairies."

"Ah." Fully aware of what she was asking, Jareth relaxed against the stone balustrade. "Once I'd made the bargain with your mother, I left you a little gift." With that he summoned a crystal, tossing it at her.

When Sarah caught it, it wasn't an orb but a copy of " _The Labyrinth."_ She stroked the red leather with contemplation. Looking up, her brow was furrowed. "You left this for me?"

"Call it a hint," he said with a small smirk. "Though I was hoping you'd develop a fondness for the story and then, maybe, someday a fondness for me might not be so far-fetched."

"You gave me a book in the hopes of seducing me?" She was incredulous.

"Of course not. I merely hoped that some familiarity would help you adjust here."

"Did you mean for it to send me here at the tender age of fifteen?" This was the true question.

He frowned again. "No. I had not been necessarily planning on that. I've been intermittently observing your life since you were seven. When it became clear that factors were leading to a potential for you to wish yourself and your sibling away I planned accordingly, but I did not _want_ you to land on my doorstep at such a young age. That wasn't part of our agreement. What was I going to do with a child? How could I possibly justify grooming a child to be my bride?"

"You did leave a book for me hoping that it would do just that," she pointed out. The sun was on the horizon now, golden and ready to sink below the ground to sleep. "And if consent was so important to you then you could have orchestrated something other than an elaborate kidnapping scheme with my mother."

"All fair points." Jareth bowed his head, lips quirking. "You were supposed to come to me at the age of 22, hopefully of some of your own will. But instead, you came here at 15 and when you'd beaten me, I begged you to stay." Seeing her expression he laughed bitterly. "It surprised even me. But I could not let you go, not after I'd have you for a precious thirteen hours. Not without trying, anyway. It didn't matter, in the end. You rejected me without a second thought and returned home to forget us. And it was back to square one."

"Why didn't you tell me when I first arrived?" Sarah tilted her head. She pushed back from the railing, rubbing her wrists.

Jareth shrugged elegantly. "It didn't seem like it would make a difference. You would have thought me mad."

That was a fair enough point. She turned so her back was against the stone, elbows resting on it. The sleeves of her dress strained slightly, red velvet stretching. Jareth moved to stand over her, slipping a hand on her waist, eyes half-lidded. He loomed, though not in an intimidating way. Sarah pressed upwards and he leaned his forehead against hers. Tentative, Sarah's fingers touched one sharp cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as he exhaled.

Slowly and with great care, Jareth shifted to catch her mouth in his. It was not a demanding kiss, though there was a certain level of force to it. Sarah caught herself sighing into it as she stroked his cheek with her thumb. For a shining moment, things felt simply right.

-XXX-

She was pondering this kiss the next day in the library, absentmindedly wandering the shelves, fingers bumping against the spines as she trailed around the aisles. Kissing was a grand thing indeed, especially with someone who knew what they were doing. Jareth certainly knew his way around a mouth. In a good way, of course.

It had been some time since she was kissed. The last time she had kissed anyone besides Jareth. It was a little before graduation. One last party in someone's slightly sticky, very dated apartment. Underneath the Christmas lights strung up along the dingy walls, she'd pressed herself into the form of Ashton Hart, her freshman year chem partner. A few drinks and the doe-eyes he'd sent her over his red solo cup, combined with her wistfulness as leaving the bosom of university, made her more than ready to shove her tongue down his throat.

Wincing, she reflected on how very un-romantic she sounded. But many of those kisses were not necessarily fueled by romance….

" _Oof."_

She was on the floor, having tripped on a misplaced pile of books. Cursing, Sarah pushed herself up off the carpet, slipping slightly on several loose pages she'd displaced with her fall. With a groan, she kneeled to sweep the papers up. Taping the edge against the floor to even them out, one stood out. It was taller, thinner, and folded. Sarah plucked it from the pile, unfolding it slowly.

The parchment was yellowed, stiff but softer on the edges. It wasn't difficult to discern that it was a map, though of what it was difficult to tell. It was so large in covered the desk she spread it across, with extra squares of paper unfolded and draped over the edge of the table. The ink was old, faded. The words and figures were so wispy they almost appeared to move -

Sarah blinked. The trees and winged creatures that surfaced the paper didn't just appear to move, they _were moving._ Dozens of people and creatures

One small figure in a cap caught her eye. It was stubby looking, moving in a sort of shuffle, located in the greenhouse and labeled " _Hoggle."_ In the west tower of the castle, walking up the winding staircase, was a stout depiction of Meldy. And in the throne room, lounging in the round chair in a manner that was truly uncanny, was the lithe drawing of Jareth.

In the part of the map sectioned off by various bits of wall and hedge were many creatures with names that were unfamiliar to her. They were of different shapes and sizes - some appearing birdlike, others resembled serpents and bears. Sarah traced the path of one lengthy-looking cat along the stream to the north entitled "Lethe."

What she had found was a treasure. With this, she could explore every inch of the kingdom whilst avoiding dangerous beasts and the Goblin King. She could venture into the Labyrinth, something that Sarah suddenly realized she wanted. There were many things forbidden to her in the Goblin Kingdom and this was abruptly accessible. Sarah wasn't sure if any answers could be found in the Labyrinth, but it was worth a shot. Jareth did not want her going there. That had to mean something.


	18. Chapter 18

**-XXX-**

It took little self-convincing to persuade Sarah to abandon the map scheme. Jareth had said it was dangerous. She was not the one to seek out danger - merely an adventure. Occasionally. So she put the aged parchment aside in a drawer, trying to forget about it.

But she quickly failed. Less than an hour passed before she found herself reaching into the desk drawer and spreading it out upon the desk's surface with a magnifying glass on hand to read the small, wispy script.

That night at dinner when Jareth asked her if she'd found anything of interest to do on that rainy day. Sarah hesitated over her pasta only for a moment before replying.

"Just some reading."

**-XXX-**

Spring had once been one of her favorite times of the year. The tender blossoms that scented the air and the soft greenery pulled at her heartstrings. Rain was also something she enjoyed. Nothing was lovelier than a cozy day of downpours spent in armchairs near windows with steaming mugs of tea. But here in the Underground, the rain seemed endless. Winter had been relatively mild with only a few falls of snow. Yet something about spring had gone wrong. It rained nearly every day and in torrential downpours.

"It's bad for a month, then it tapers off just in time for the flowers," Meldy reassured her one day when Sarah followed her to the laundry.

The maid had set her about folding shirts. Normally she wouldn't let Sarah do anything close to housework, but today she seemed a little stressed. Flu was taking out members of the household in waves. Sarah and Meldy both were grateful - Sarah for the chance to do something other than reading, Meldy for the extra pair of hands.

The maid continued. "Last year the moat nearly flooded. Poor Sir Didymus's bridge was overtaken by water."

"Goodness, that could not have been an easy clean-up."

Meldy turned off the tap, watching the steaming water rise as she stirred it. "It was not. The only thing that would perhaps overtake it was the incident from a few years back, that ruckus in the city that smashed houses and fountains."

Sarah noted the side-glance the maid gave her.

Monotony had reclaimed her days. For the past week, she'd been in the library almost exclusively, pouring over the Goblin Kingdom's history in an attempt to discover what had occurred around the time she came to the Underground the first time. It was not so different from what she had been told - the city had been left in a mess, Jareth locked up in the castle, and the land had been cast into despair for some time. But the books were all vague.

In between housework and research, she examined the map. She was still uncertain of its validity, particularly in regards to its ability to track the movements of the residents. To test it, she would have to go out in the Labyrinth. That was forbidden. Expressly forbidden.

Sarah looked up from the parchment. For the first time in days, the rain was not pelting the windows, leaving them clear from the crystal beads that had lined the cool surface for the past two weeks.

What was the harm in a brief ride out past the wall? It was hours until sunset, she could change into riding clothes, get down to the stable, ride out and back in under three hours, she was sure. Jareth would be none the wiser. He had been in his office for prolonged periods over the last three days, consumed with paperwork regarding a trade negotiation with elves. Servants had whispered that he was quite frustrated and utterly consumed. Apparently, there were a few lords that thought themselves too good to make any formal agreements with the King of the Goblins and it was causing Jareth (and therefore everyone in proximity to him) headaches.

It was with great luck that Meldy was not in her room when Sarah arrived, allowing her to change quickly with no questions asked. She hesitated by the door, half-reaching for her bow, which hung next to the threshold.

"It couldn't hurt," she reasoned, strapping it and her quiver to her back. Her dagger already hung from her belt, a comforting weight against her hip.

The stables were quiet, and the hand that met her was more than eager to help her saddle Squash. The horse accepted a carrot readily before the bit was offered to him. Sarah mounted by herself, telling the hand to keep her small ride between the two of them. "I don't want to make anyone feel troubled to draw me a bath or be back here waiting for me," she explained, hoping she sounded haughty enough to be convincing. "I'm quite fine on my own, no need for any fuss."

With that she nudged Squash forward, sending him toward the gates. The guards at both the castle and city gates tipped their heads to her, but no one stopped her or tried to engage. One of the goblins at the city gates looked hesitant briefly, but the steel of Sarah's gaze was convincing enough. Sarah was enough of a representation of Jareth that her will was not to be questioned. The gate was swiftly opened Squash eased through as if he went wandering the Labyrinth every day.

**-XXX-**

The map was helpful if a little difficult to hold while attempting to control a pony. She kept having to halt Squash so she could focus and read the tiny print. The pony stamped impatiently when did this, but Sarah ignored him.

For nearly an hour they wandered around, stopping to drink from the decorative fountains that were scattered about and to smell the blossoms that lined the hedges. So far nothing was terribly intimidating. In fact, it almost just seemed like an extension of the formal gardens of the palace. Jareth's warning appeared to be in vain. A false flag, perhaps.

Sarah stopped for a moment to pluck a few apples from a tree along their path. There were plump peaches next to the apple trees, but for some reason, she felt a sudden aversion to her favorite fruit.

Squash was happy to accept a few apples, munching contentedly as Sarah examined the map. They were, according to the map, still in the garden level. That was the level that was technically closest to the castle, though judging the twists and turns, being on that level did not necessarily mean one was close to getting to the castle in the center. Sarah was grateful for the map and shortcuts it allowed her.

Also for the ability to avoid other beings. She had already managed to skirt past a few goblin guards with the help of the map by hanging back as they passed by with their helmets clanking and snapper sticks croaking.

"I wonder what those are," she had breathed to Squash as she leaned forward to pat his neck, awaiting the soldier's passing. "I've never seen the palace guards use them."

They were heading towards what looked like a kind of courtyard labeled " _sculpture garden."_ A couple of depictions of what Sarah guessed to be sculptures were scattered around the label. It sounded tame enough - unlike the " _Firey Forest"_ or " _The Bog of Eternal Stench."_

An archway outlined with stone flowers and ivy that market the entry to the garden. Sarah slid off Squash, letting his reins drop to the ground. He patiently stood beside the path, content to await her return. She was half tempted to leave behind her arrow and quiver, but the trouble of strapping and unstrapping was not appealing, so she continued on.

It was like a museum. Sarah recalled outdoor sculpture features she'd encountered at all the museums her parents had taken her to in her youth on family vacations. The pieces here were far less contemporary, but nevertheless, breathtaking.

She wandered, gravel crunching beneath her feet, lingering at the objects that caught her interest. The bronze stag nearest the entry was so finely crafted it could almost be mistaken for the real thing, save for the metallic sheen. Further along, a granite two-headed dragon, slinking down the length of one walkway, gave Sarah pause to admire each defined scale. A unicorn sat in the center, reared up, and at its feet a phoenix. Marble figures of mysterious fae, mermaids lounging near the fountain, stern dwarves guarding the exit all made for a diverse collection.

It was just starting to drizzle as Sarah passed a massive centaur cast in copper, making her wonder if they existed here and if so, why they were never represented in court. The fierce griffin and cool-looking sphinx made her a little nervous.

"Your eyes are too real," she told them.

Indeed, all of the creatures in the garden, humanoid and animal alike had eyes that contained a startling depth to them. They were a little unsettling. It was almost like a Medusa or basilisk had put a collection of stone-trapped creatures here to make a charming little garden feature. Every figure looked unbearably real.

But the most unsettling thing was tucked into one corner. It was a human figure, made of marble. The subject was lithe and thoughtful, with a long sweep of hair that hung down her back. One hand was aloft, holding up an expertly wrought blossom, gazing at it with soft eyes. Almost Grecian in style, the figure all soft and draped in light, flowing fabrics. The exception to this was the dagger strapped to her waist. It shot through the softness and added an edge to the image. There was no inscription dedicating the statue or naming an artist.

It was Sarah.

Not Sarah as she was today. This Sarah was younger, for starters. Face a little rounder, having not lost her baby fat quite yet. She carried herself in a grace entirely unfamiliar to the human examining her. If one looked closely, they could see ears with pointed tips hidden behind a curtain of hair that was wavy, not straight. Her eyes were also different, carrying that catlike quality found only among the fae. But her straight nose, strong jaw, and full brows were unmistakable. Her lips, not terribly full, with a modest cupid's bow, were spot-on.

Pushing back her hood and blinking back rain, the Sarah that was not made of stone stared. What was this? Some fantasy of Jareth's? A joke by the Labyrinth?

"This isn't funny," she said aloud as if that would make any difference. "If anything, it's creepy."

Creepy it may be, but Sarah was entranced by it. She circled it once, twice, trying to grasp every detail. Finally, she stepped over the hedge separating the statue from the pathways, standing at eye level. To anyone happening upon the scene, it might look like she was trying to kiss the mirror image of herself.

Reaching out, Sarah slipped her hand against the statue's. For a moment, she registered the stone's strange warmth, and then the marble fingers trapped her own.

Sarah screamed and attempted to wrench herself from the stone-Sarah's grasp, but the noise was drowned out by the terrible sound of stone bodies coming alive.

She did not know what magic allowed them to move, but the sound of metal creaking as limbs lowered from long-held stances was grating to hear. The stone was more forgiving, more of a rumble as their joints unhinged. Sarah's breath caught as all of the previously still statues slowly jerked to life in an unsettling manner.

The centaur was the nearest, and she watched as it reared its front legs, holding its bow aloft. That distracted her from the armored fae with a spear and shield that descended upon her without hesitation. She gave her arm one final tug to release it from her stone twin's grasp. Sarah scrambled over the hedge. She cursed herself as she reached for her own bow, knowing it to be useless. The fae advanced and it was only through some mad luck that she slid past him, avoiding the spear.

A sphinx, carved from a dark stone, hissed as she passed, but Sarah paid it no mind. She ran for the archway, moving past the unicorn, which seemed unconcerned.

"How to get out, how to get out," she murmured, spinning to check her back.

One of the mermaids guarding the fountain managed to cast a sparkling gold net in her direction and Sarah tripped, lodging some gravel in her knee as she fell. Her beautiful bow clattered to the ground beside her. That was when the burly figure of a dwarf managed to grab one arm. He was flanked by the dragon, which made a chuckling noise. Their vacant yet lifelike eyes were on her. The stone was warm, almost hot against her skin, but unyielding.

She had not anticipated them working together.

Without thinking, she withdrew her last weapon, the dagger Hoggle had gifted her for Yule. Unsheathing it, she twisted to strike the dwarf's wrist -

\- and struck it with a sword.

The stone dwarf let out a cry as his limb cracked and crumbled under the force. Thankfully he dropped her arm as Sarah sprung forward to untangle her legs. Snagging her bow, she held what was once a dagger out, pointing it at the dragon, who snapped its long jaws. She gritted her teeth, swinging the sword (which was remarkably light for a broadsword) around to the armored fae and massive silver wolf that had joined the others in cornering her. Outnumbered.

Eyeing the stone archway, which had sealed itself off the moment the statues had awoken, Sarah wondered at her chances of getting out over the hedge. She was no climber, with hardly any upper body strength. But there was a chance with a bit of a boost she could make it somewhat up the ten-foot-high projection on adrenaline. They might follow - nevertheless, it was a risk she was willing to take.

The sword had some weight to it, though it was lighter than the others she'd held in the weaponry in the city. Hoggle had not mentioned that it was magical. Did he know that his gift was enchanted?

Sarah balanced it in both hands, thinking. She did not really know how to use a sword. A few drama classes in college had taught her how to stage fight, but that had been with thin rapiers, and the faux battles had been for show. She was not terribly assured of her ability to attack, let alone defend herself with basic defensive measures. However, she did not much choice. It was, as they say, do or die. Perhaps Jareth was not being so dramatic when he warned her off. Gritting her teeth and tightening her grip, Sarah lifted the sword up to her right shoulder.

The wolf switched its tale, licking its marble teeth. Sarah swung, striking an ear, which was dented with the sound of metal striking metal. The wolf yelped, Sarah spun clumsily to be met with the armored fae. Her sword met with his shield, at an odd angle. The stone cracked. The spear made for her chest. Sarah barely dodged, and the speartip sliced through her upper arm, grazing her back as she jerked away. She hissed, yanking the sword from the shield. The stone fae advanced.

He and the wolf snatched up every inch of ground. She held the sword aloft, shaking from the adrenaline. In the background, the dwarf hobbled forward menacingly.

"Stay back," she warned, holding the sword out. In the afternoon sun, it flashed as she brought it down. The wolf snapped. Sarah bared her teeth. She felt feral. Instinct and adrenaline was her only fuel now. She did not think. Merely moved.

Her back struck the hedge. Taking a deep breath, Sarah turned to launch herself up the greenery, feet scrambling to find hold. She slipped once, twice. Stone fingers grazed her ankles, but Sarah kicked, hard, and kept climbing. The hedge shook - though whether if it Sarah's weight and movement or the statues throwing themselves, she did not know.

**-XXX-**


	19. Chapter 19

**-XXX-**

Once she was at a safe height, Sarah thrust the sword in her belt. When she had a moment she would try to figure out how to turn it back into a dagger. For now, she was just hoping to keep it close.

At the top of the hedge, she hesitated for a moment. The drop was significant - more than ten feet - but climbing down could waste time and she wasn't about to let them catch up to her. She withdrew the sword again, thinking that she could easily impale her foot if she did not land properly. Closing her eyes, Sarah jumped.

" _Ooof."_

She landed, hard, though not nearly as badly as she might have anticipated. Her right ankle was most certainly twisted or sprained, it was hard to tell. But there was no time. Squash was waiting around the corner, near the sealed entryway. Sarah ran, ignoring the pain as best she could and hurried to swing herself onto the pony with her good foot, claiming the reins and rallying the creature to move.

Squash had never ridden harder in his life, she was certain of it. Perhaps he sensed her fear or he was fearful for himself. He was a calm mount by nature, that was why the stable hands had reserved him for her. At the moment, however, he was anything but calm. The palomino pony jolted forward with a thundering speed. His hooves clattered relentlessly, making a hollow noise against the soft dirt and gravel of the pathways. Sarah let him lead them through the maze of hedges, collapsing to sprawl over his neck, praying he knew the way. It was getting dark - storm clouds were on the southern horizon, promising rain.

Eventually, he slowed to a trot and Sarah took a moment to breathe, finally sitting up in the saddle. Sword still in hand, she took stock of her condition. All of her was shaking. Her chest ached as her heart hammered within it. She could feel blood dripping out of her wound and an unpleasant heat radiating from the injured ankle. Explaining her injuries to Jareth and Meldy would be troublesome, but she'd take it.

Truth be told, she was in far better shape than anticipated, especially considering the jump she'd taken. Sarah looked at her hands in wonder, noting that the scrapes she'd earned from climbing the hedge were no longer bleeding and pink, like fresh scars rather than scabs. Was this a benefit from her body adapting to the Underground? From slowly turning into something between fae and human? She sighed. There were worse fates than being able to heal quickly.

Perhaps if her smaller wounds disappeared she could blame the busted ankle and the cut on her arm upon falling from Squash's back? She was not a particularly skilled rider, it was plausible that she could have easily fallen from her mount.

Sarah was growing more and more certain that Squash had failed to navigate them home and had actually just ran himself to exhaustion out of fear, making them undeniably lost. They were still surrounded by hedges, but they were not familiar hedges. Sarah had to stand up in the stirrups to see the castle at the center, and it looked awfully far away, held against a backdrop of ominous-looking clouds. She took up the reins and began guiding them towards what she hoped was a path back home before the rain started in.

Her hope was lost however when fat drops began to descend upon them. Sarah groaned in frustration as she and the pony were quickly soaked in the downpour.

"Nothing could make the afternoon worse," Sarah sighed, tugging up the hood of her cloak.

She spoke too soon.

They rounded a corner into a sort of courtyard and lightning flashed, spooking Squash into rearing. Sarah clung to the pony, holding the reins tightly as she patted his neck, making soothing noises. He was just beginning to settle down when the thunder rolled in, sending him rearing again. This time, Sarah did not fare so well. She slid off the saddle and into the mud as the pony bolted.

She cursed as she tumbled down, her ankle jostling painfully. Sarah rolled, wincing heavily, reaching to her left for the sword that made the fall with her, attempting to sheath it.

More lighting and Sarah looked up to see a silhouetted figure looming above her, having appeared from seemingly nowhere. Jareth held Squash's reins in one gloved hand, extending the other out to her. She accepted and he hauled her up, gripping her waist tightly and holding her against his body as though he meant to engulf her. His eyes were unfathomably dark against a starkly pale face. Fury echoed in the deepest parts of his pupils. He was livid.

Wordlessly he helped her onto the pony before swinging on himself. Squash quivered beneath them. The storm frightened him plenty, but the Goblin King scared him even more than thunder and lightning.

Jareth reached around Sarah for the reins. The black leather of his gloves strained as he gripped the reins tightly. Kicking, he spurred Squash forward and in mere minutes they were through the castle gates and in the stable. He had managed to send them through some secret doorway in the hedge maze, one that sent them beneath the ground, cutting across space to bring them back very quickly. When the pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel broke into overcast skies of the stableyard, Sarah sagged against Jareth. Relief flooded her, though not enough to sidetrack the apprehension that had claimed her since the Goblin King found them. 

She was helped off the horse by the same stable hand that had prepared Squash for her earlier. He looked embarrassed and avoided eye contact. Sarah couldn't blame him. She hoped he was spared from any unpleasantness. He had not known he was an accomplice to her crimes.

Jareth was quickly back at her side. Unlike her, he appeared moderately dry. She, on the other hand, resembled a drowned kitten with her dark hair stringy with wetness. Beyond this, her skin felt clammy and damp. Jareth allowed her to hobble towards to stairs to the kitchen briefly, disdainful curl to his lips, before catching her waist and lending her support.

"Carvek," he called out to one of the young goblins that worked as an aid in the kitchens. "When you are finished with that, summon the doctor to Lady Sarah's room and send up a tea tray."

He did not send them straight to her room, instead of walking all the way. Neither spoke, even as she winced. Sarah wondered if she was being punished.

Jareth took her to her rooms, depositing her on the mattress unceremoniously. To Sarah's surprise, he stayed, busying himself with fetching hot water and towels. She struggled to sit up so as avoid getting blood and water on the duvet.

The physician came, a serious-looking elf with kindness about him, not the usual white-haired fae. He introduced himself as Hicorn. He thanked Jareth for the towels and water, then requested a screen be erected to grant Sarah some privacy. The examination was quick and professional. The wrist that was gripped by her stone tribute was bruised, and she had a collection of scrapes and bruises upon her as a whole, but nothing too terrible. He cleaned the cut that spanned her upper arm and shoulder blades, determining that the part on her arm would need some stitches.

"I have not had to give anyone stitches for some time," he admitted as he moved the screen. Sarah was redressed in a simple shift that exposed the wounds on her upper arms. "But before I begin we will need to look at that leg."

Her ankle was indeed sprained. It would heal in only a few hours - faster, he told her, than a normal human's. "You're lucky. A normal human would have likely broken the bone."

"I suppose I'm not very normal anymore?" Sarah was proud of the restrained bitterness in her voice.

Hicorn glanced up from threading the curved needle. "Not in the least. You've been here for nearly ten months, my lady. Your biology is changing. You're becoming a little more in-between. If you had not been as such, I wonder what state you would be in." He looked at her with interest. "It may be bold to ask, my lady, but what did happen?"

By the mantle, Jareth shifted. His aura of lividness had faded moderately and transition to a more impassive one. Sarah noticed his eyes were trained on the glinting needle. When he caught her looking his nostril flared and he turned back to the fire.

She inhaled sharply as the needle sank into her arm, trying to keep her muscles relaxed. "I fought off a few nasty statues"

Hicorn's brows rose. "My my. It sounds like someone to a venture into the Labyrinth."

Jareth's hand tighten on the wood of the mantlepiece, knuckles whitening.

The stitches only took a few moments thankfully. Sarah restrained a hiss as the curved needle flashed in and out of her flesh, fist balling the sheets. The rest was dressed with several white bandages. As for her foot, it was elevated on a throw pillow with instructions to ice it every thirty minutes. Same with her wrist. Sarah nodded as the physician rattled off a shortlist of dos and don'ts. She was to stay in bed all night and bare minimum most of tomorrow. It was cautionary - her ankle would likely heal quickly, but he did not want to risk her straining it further.

Just as he was finishing up the tea appeared next to the armchair, as usual. Hicorn took this as a cue to leave, promising to check on her progress tomorrow.

"My lady, if you should need some instruction on some of the changes you'll be undoubtedly experiencing, do not hesitate to call on me," he added as he packed his back, looking over the frame of his glasses. "I've come across a number of your kind in the midst of such change, and I know it can be troubling."

Sarah was moved by his kindness. He was the first person to offer her actual information, and that meant a lot. Thanking him, Sarah reassured the physician that she would.

Jareth was silent the entire time, though upon this interaction he shifted to stare into the fire. She could see fresh grooves in the wood of the mantle.

They were suddenly alone. Sarah poured herself a cup of tea, making it strong and sweet. Jareth did not speak until her quiet voice roused him from his occupation with the fire. From the bed, she anchored herself to the pillows, took a breath, and tried the process of apologizing. Or something, anyway.

"I did not mean for this to happen."

He turned as if by a trigger. He had been ready and waiting. "Your intention matters not," he spat. "You deliberately disobeyed me. I do not give you these rules merely for you to thwart them or because I take any pleasure in being a tyrant. You could have been killed."

Sarah's nostrils flared. "And I wasn't. I held my own."

His laugh was harsh and false. "Is that what you call dumb luck? Look at yourself. You nearly broke a leg, lost your horse, and by some fate instead of slicing off your neck they got by just turning your back and arms into ribbons."

"I only went because I knew there were things you were keeping from me. I went in for answers."

"Oh?" Jareth's eyes were ice. "And pray tell, what did you find?"

Sarah crossed her arms. Truth be told there wasn't much she had gleaned from her venture into the Labyrinth. The strange stone replica of herself had been a disturbing surprise, but nothing terribly revealing. Yet it was her only card.

"Why is there a stone figure of me in your little murder garden?" she demanded. "Is this some kind of sick Pygmalion attempt?"

Jareth was not amused by her reference, though she could not be sure if he got it fully. "And you were not flattered by that tribute?" he snarled.

She laughed - she couldn't help it. Sitting up with a wince, Sarah shook her head. "It was unsettling, to say the least."

Stalking towards the bed, Jareth glared. "Do you attempt to distract me from the matter at hand? You purposely put yourself in harm's way, purposefully disobeyed me, and you barely escaped with your life. If I had not found you -"

Her eyes drew to the bow and sword sitting across the room, laid out upon the table where she took her breakfast. Had she not been gifted both of them Jareth likely would have had to order a few goblins to pull her corpse from the mermaid's fountain or scoop up scattered bits from the hedges. All would have been for naught.

Jareth's hand squeezed hers, drawing her attention back. The anger had faded from his mismatched eyes. They were serious now. He looked weary. "Sarah, I thought we had perhaps reached an understanding. Why would you go?"

Sarah couldn't muster a reply. "For answers," was the short one. "Boredom," was perhaps another, but neither of those felt honest. They were not wrong, necessarily, but neither were they the whole truth. Ever since she'd found the map Sarah had felt an undeniable summons to venture into the world beyond the Goblin City. It was more than curiosity or demand for answers. And to put the feeling to words felt impossible. She would come off as silly or even stupid. For all of his sudden patience, Jareth wouldn't take her abstractions too well. Lost for words, she merely looked at their combined hands.

There was a chance he took her motion for shame or something similar. With a sigh, he withdrew his hand.

"What must we do to trust one another?" he asked, sounding like he all of his thousand of years. "I had naively hoped we were at a point where we were at least on sightly more even footing. Yet you've made it abundantly clear that you don't have nearly enough faith in me, and by turn, I don't see how I can share any great measure of trust with you. What must I do, Sarah?"

She reached for him, silent. But Jareth stepped away from the bed, eyes in shadow.

"You need your rest," he said quietly. "I will send Meldy to attend to you."

Sarah made to get up, to speak, but a puff of warm air gently pressed her back into the mattress as Jareth turned and strode out of the room.

**-XXX-**


	20. Chapter 20

**-XXX-**

The next day she was confined to her bed as her ankle mended. Meldy still dressed her in a day dress, the kind that the maid said was for afternoon teas. She accurately predicted the guests Sarah was bound to have, and the young woman was grateful that she looked somewhat put together when her friend arrived later in the morning. Hoggle, Didymus, and Ludo all came to her bedside, bearing small gifts.

Ludo presented a strange and wonderful rock that was hollow, with various holes that when one looked inside, they saw small glittering crystals. Didymus gave her a lovely bouquet of daffodils, her favorite spring flower. Meldy placed these in a vase and put them on her bedside table before she quietly left to fetch the part tea. Hoggle offered a basket of strawberry muffins, made in his own kitchen.

Word had apparently come out that the king's guest, the last champion of the Labyrinth, had snuck into the Labyrinth late yesterday, but that is where the truth ended and exaggeration began. Didymus, who himself felt above gossip, reported that folks in the city were saying Sarah had slain a terrible fire beast in the forest. Others claimed she'd fallen in the swamp and Jareth had left her there, for fear that his love would stink up the castle. Some were saying she'd met a unicorn and, her heart transfixed by its beauty, transformed into its twin and that Jareth was still searching for her. As romantic the notion was, Sarah, doubted that she'd ever had enough fae magic to pull transfiguration off.

"Fools," the dwarf huffed. "They'd believe anything of you, I swear, it's like your something from legend."

It was an odd comparison, she thought when so much of what made up the Underground was in fact from legend. She was a mortal - or, at least, she had been. And many of them had seen her in person, in the market place and in the shops. It was strange that she should be granted such a mythical status as to be a slayer of beasts and a shape-shifter.

"It's nothing but drivel," Didymus sniffed. "Talk to entertain the shopkeepers and gossips as they go about their business. No one really believes you turned yourself into a horned horse, my lady. No one of substance, anyways."

She looked at Ludo, smiling as she watched him carefully examine the flowers of her bouquet, large fingers touching the silky petals. "Did you think I'd fallen in the swamp?"

The rock-caller shook his massive head. "Sarwah no stink."

That was true enough.

The friends ate and talked until the noon bell when Meldy came to shoo them off. "The lady needs her rest," she said, eyeing Ludo as he gave one of his deep groans. "There's nothing to help mending bones but rest. She will come to see you tomorrow."

Sarah sank back into the pillows once they had left, inhaling deeply as her maid busied herself with cleaning up crumbs and teacups. There wasn't much to do but read and sleep. She longed to speak to Jareth but being confined to her bed the most she could do was send notes through Meldy and any nearby pages. She had been trying to engage him all morning with no success. Every page had come back empty-handed, some with fearful looks in their eyes. Sarah supposed she'd have to seek him out herself tomorrow. She did not look forward to it.

**-XXX-**

Meldy was kind enough to help her out of bed the next morning. She prepared a bath while Sarah ate breakfast quickly, unused to the goblin's presence when she awoke. Following her bath, the maid was ready to dress her hair and cloth her. Sarah eyed the outfit the maid had prepared - a low-cut purple gown, one that Sarah knew hugged her form closely. Meldy knew of her intentions to meet the king, and it appears the maid was attempting her own had at strategy. Sarah was not sure if she approved, but allowed herself to be trussed up in the suggestive dress.

Meldy added the final touches with a black choker set with a gleaming moonstone pendant. Sarah touched the ribbon of velvet at her throat, reminded of the trendier girls in her middle school who wore necklaces like this with sundresses and combat boots.

She had only been to Jareth's office a handful of times. He more often sought her out than she him, so it took some reminding and help from servants for her to find the room. There was no indication that this room was anything other than a workroom - it was away from the suites in the east wing, and the only nearby chambers were offices of various secretaries and advisers. Nothing screamed "private office of the Goblin King." She tentatively knocked, hoping that this would not be an embarrassing case of intruding upon the wrong room.

Something knocked back - a book, perhaps, or something else heavy had struck the door on the other side.

"If you're here to deliver another blasted note, you can tell Lady Sarah that I am _busy,_ " a terse voice said from the other side of the door, commanding and projecting an intimidating volume.

Sarah opened the door, arm up in a defensive position should the person decide to throw another item towards the threshold.

"Lady Sarah thought she ought to come deliver the message herself," she said dryly.

Jareth was standing over a wide desk, the velvet upholstered chair behind him askew. Books, papers, and quills were scattered about the leather surface of the desk. On the wall behind Jareth were several large, detailed maps of the Goblin Kingdom, the Goblin City, and the Underground. Much like Sarah's map, they moved in real-time, showing changes to the weather and the environment they portrayed. The other walls were lined with shelves, books, cabinets, displays of weapons, magical objects, and heavy brass-trimmed chests. A display of glittering stones, quartz, and amethyst among them, caught Sarah's eye.

The king straightened. He matched his desk's disarray with his simple linen poet's shirt, tight breeches, and scuffed boots. These were work clothes, old and worn, content to be splattered with ink, worn for comfort during long hours bent over paperwork. Sarah blinked at him.

Eyes flicking over her, Jareth stayed quiet. Sarah entered the room more fully, bending to scoop up the book that lay on the floor before the door, cradling it in her arms. She strode forward, gently setting the tome on the top of a small pile at the front of the desk. Jareth had not moved, merely stared at her. Hand on her hip, she stared back.

"Why did you ignore me yesterday?

"I was busy." He tilted his head, indicating the piles of papers and scrolls littering his workspace. He turned to begin sorting them, back to her. "I haven't got time to answer all of your whims and wishes, Sarah."

She frowned. "I'm not asking you to reorder time or anything. I just want to talk to you."

"Then talk," the Goblin King said shortly, still not looking at her. "But know that I do not have all day. Ruling a nation is not all parties and parlor tricks, Sarah, I have a lot of work."

Sarah moved to stand closer to the desk. In turn, Jareth stepped behind the desk, sinking into his chair and picking up a quill.

"I know that I've disappointed you. I didn't mean to do that, I just -" Sarah bit her lip. "There is still so much I don't understand. I thought perhaps if I sought out answers in the Labyrinth…."

The excuses sounded lame even to her own ears. Sighing, she set her palms down upon the desk.

"Jareth, our reintroduction - hell, our introduction - did not start out on an even footing. The power dynamic from the beginning was entirely unequal and did not lend itself to trust on either side. We have both fought to change this, I think, but I just do not know if there is any way that the past can be shaken off so easily."

She took a deep breath. "I trust you as much as I possibly can, Jareth. Even you must admit that I have some just cause in my limited faith. You took me from my home and my family, took my brother, hid from me the history of my past here. One cannot merely brush that aside. But I've resigned myself I care for you, deeply. I want to help you. I want to make this place better. I am trying to move forward, Jareth."

"It feels backward," he answered, eyes rising to finally meet hers. "We were doing so well."

She clenched her fists against the leather of the desktop. "Only as well as one prisoner can be to a warden."

"That isn't fair, Sarah," he chided gravelly. "And this hardly feels like an apology."

Schooling herself, Sarah spoke in measured tones. "I do not wish to apologize for disobeying your terms. I am sorry to cause you distress, but that's about all I am sorry for."

His eyes finally flashed. "Sarah," he said by way of warning.

Pleased, Sarah leaned back from the desk. "You can be mad at me, fine. But you cannot deny I wasn't right to try to find my own answers when you claim that they aren't yours to give. I'm not the type to sit idly by, Jareth. If you want me as your queen you ought to recognize this. I'm not going to be a figurehead or some pretty thing that comes out at Christmas. If I rule, _I rule._ "

The expression that crossed his face was a warring one. He struggled with pride and frustration.

"You have never expressed an interest before," he finally said, breaking the tense silence. "In being queen."

Her chin jutted up. "I've got little choice, not, have I? I'm not much of a human anymore. Even if I managed to evade you, where would I go? There is a chance I can be happy here and make something of myself. If it's as Queen of the Goblins or just a common girl I suppose I'll take that chance. Besides," she added. "It will be my only chance to be something other than your prisoner."

"You have always been my equal."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, pushing herself up off the desk to cross the room, moving to one of the windows. It offered a splendid view of the city. She could make out the market with its fountains and cobbles. "We're a long way from an equal footing."

She could hear him sigh, but when she glanced back she saw a twist of a bitter smile playing across his lips. "I have always _wanted_ you to be my equal. That at least is true."

The king reached for a box on one of the shelves near his desk. It was of rosewood, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and gold. Setting it on the leather top of the desk, he ran a thumb over the lid, looking at the vine and leaf design with impassive eyes. Sarah longed to ask what was inside. Instead, she decided to prop herself up on the window ledge, watching. A long moment passed before Jareth flipped the latch to the box and opened it. The hinges creaked from lack of use. Gently, the king reached inside.

Months ago he had given her a beautiful silver circlet of grey pearl and peridot. She remembered thinking that the peridot matched his green eye. It had been a gorgeous gift, one that she had worn often to court functions since. Sometimes when he wore his matching version, she privately thought that they looked like a proper pair of royals.

It was nothing in comparison to the piece of he now held. The gold held a certain level of age that allowed the crystal's fire to flare brilliantly. Sarah's breath caught as Jareth approached. Oval stones the color of blood lined the middle of the crown. Diamonds formed swirling arches, offset by pearls and teardrops of citrine. It was breathtaking. Delicate, not too heavy-looking, while still appearing imposing. Perfect for a queen.

He presented it to her, holding it between two gloved hands with reverence. "This was the crown I had made the day I knew I needed to find you. I didn't have the jewelers put the stones in until the day I saw you. I knew garnets would suit."

"Why?" she breathed.

Jareth seemed to understand she was not asking why he knew dark red stones would look nice against her dark hair and pale complexion. "Because you seem ready."

Quietly, he set the crown on her head. "I have one that is similar, though it is with white gold and sapphire."

She could picture them, side by side in the throne room, wearing fire and water crowns and regal expressions. For the first time, she could really see it. Them, as partners. Equals. A balanced throne. For an inexplicable reason, this made her smile.

Reaching up, she touched the king's cheek, gently urging him down to meet her lips. Jareth let a sigh escape as he pulled Sarah closer.

**-XXX-**


	21. Chapter 21

**-XXX-**

"-My lady?"

Sarah nearly toppled into the stream, startled by Didymus's question. She had been daydreaming, remembering the events of the afternoon before. Cheeks burning, she steadied herself in her seat on the bridge.

"Sorry, Didymus," she said quickly, adjusting the string of her fishing pole. "I was lost in thought."

"It's the kind of day for it, Lady Sarah." His tail twitched as he applied another worm to his hook. "Spring is settling in."

"So it is," she agreed. "And just in time."

It was a nice day. The light fluttered through the bright new leaves above. Crocuses lined the bank of the stream, their pastel colors set out against the rich earth. Sarah loved spring. Everyone always went on and on about autumn and all of its colors, but Sarah looked forward to the relief of spring. She loved the rain and the breeze and the tender green grass. When the frost had cleared and the gloomy skies drifted, she immediately turned to spreading out blankets and reading in the sunshine. Daffodils, hyacinths, tulips, and cherry blossoms greeted her every morning during the season - care of Karen and her passion for gardening. Sarah was fond of picking a handful to place about her room.

But even the loveliest of days could not prevent her distraction. The memory of the two hours spent kissing and nuzzling and stroking captivated her. She had kissed Jareth before. But before had been nothing like yesterday. Before had been seconds or maybe a minute. Yesterday had been a glorious stretch of time after which her lips had been sore. Jareth had laughed at her and kissed her again, lightly running his tongue over her lips. He must have infused magic into that kiss because the ache faded.

She had pushed him into a chair, straddling him while thinking " _what am I doing?"_ Then, gleefully, " _what am I doing?"_ Jareth bit her neck gently and Sarah suddenly couldn't think anymore.

Afterward, she had blinked up at him as they nestled in the loveseat (formerly an armchair that he changed into a small sofa for them to sink into), fingers combing through his hair. Up close she could make out the varying shades - the gold, the silver, the brassy strands shot throughout. It was tame that day, the volume lessened so it did not look nearly so mane-like. She liked it. He did not look nearly so wild.

The crown sat on the desk, glinting. When it had begun to topple from her head he plucked it from her head and set it aside, then scooped her up for another round of kissing.

"It suits you," Jareth had murmured, looping an arm around her as he shifted. "I cannot wait to crown you with it."

At this, her cheek had grown hot, but she did not feel the sinking in her stomach as she usually did when the subject of her potential rule came up.

"When will it be?" she asked softly.

He pressed her face into her neck. His breath tickled and when he spoke she could feel the vibration of his voice. "Soon, I hope. But I can't be sure."

Sarah almost asked why he could not know. But she refrained, figuring it would just be one of those things he would be mysterious about.

Her pole jerk suddenly and Sarah was pulled back to the present and back to the task at hand. She began reeling and yelped when a fish was flung from the water, scales flashing in the afternoon light. Didymus shouted for her to catch ahold of it. From the bank, Ludo let out a low sound, as though to cheer for her. It was slippery, almost slimy, and Sarah was having difficulty maintaining a grip. The green and grey creature wriggled in her hands, mouth gaping. Steeling herself Sarah worked the hook from out.

"Shall we keep it, my lady?" Didymus asked. "Cook would make a fine dinner of it for you."

But Sarah let the fish slide from her hand back into the water with a small splash. "No, I'll leave him be. This is just for fun for me, anyway."

"Seems a waste," grunted Hoggle from when he lazed across the bridge, propped up against one of the rails. "Perfectly good fish."

"And I'm perfectly happy to let him go," she replied lightly. "That puts me in the lead, Didymus."

Didymus held the lead for some time, however, until Ludo surprised them all but scooping up eight fish with nothing but his hands towards the end of their fishing venture. Didymus put them in his basket, promising to cook everyone a delicious dinner. Sarah declined. She had not seen Jareth since last night and she was looking forward to dinner.

Meldy was waiting for her when she returned to her room, bath drawn and fresh gown waiting. Her eyes rolled at the sight of the two inches of mud covering the hem of her pants. As Sarah shucked off her boots the maid gestured to the bed. "There is a message for you from his majesty."

Indeed there was on the table a folded note with her name on the front. Sarah unfolded it as Meldy clucked over the boots and combed out her hair.

"He wants me to meet him in his apartments?" she asked aloud. "Why?"

"If the note doesn't say, I surely do not know."

Fair enough, Sarah thought. She let Meldy push her towards the bathroom and didn't think much else of it.

**-XXX-**

He was holding the tarnished silver mirror, a grave expression upon his face. She had not seen the mirror since Samhain when he had used it to show her family. That gift had touched her and put her in a good mood for several weeks. Was he going to show her them again today? Why now?

"Will you sit?" he asked, motioning to the chaise beside the fire.

Sarah sank onto the grey velvet, spreading out the skirts of her blue-green gown delicately. Meldy had opted for a springy color tonight, pairing the gown with aquamarine eardrops. The empire waist dress was loose and comfortable, yet displayed her bosom to its best advantage with a low-cut neckline and a panel of embroidered silk covering her chest.

"This seems a little risque," she had said, brows raised.

Meldy had smirked slightly as she finished with the buttons, moving to sweep up Sarah's hair with an enamel comb emblazoned with a dragonfly. "Sometimes one must take risks to gain rewards," said the maid primly.

"Or, as my grandmother would say, you gotta risk it to get the biscuit," Sarah replied dryly. "Though I don't know what the biscuit is in this situation."

Jareth did not seem to notice or appreciate her maid's attempts at seduction. He stood before the fire, turning the mirror in his hands slowly. It flashed as it hit the light and Sarah had to avert her eyes.

"What's with the change of venue?" she asked, fiddling with a bracelet. "Are we taking dinner in here?"

"Dinner will be a little late this evening," Jareth said simply. "Though it will be in its usual place. There is something important we need to do." With that, he held out the mirror to her. Sarah accepted. When she peered inside, all she could see was her own reflection and the black spots of age on the mirror's backing.

"Your father had a heart attack last night," the king said quietly. "He's in the hospital with your family. I would have called you here sooner, except I was only just informed myself. He is stable. I thought you might wish to see him."

She felt very everything in the scope of her senses narrow automatically. All she could really sense was his words. They came to her sluggishly.

"What?" she asked, hazy.

Jareth cleared his throat then he spoke again slowly. Sarah blinked up at him through eyes welling with tears. Kneeling beside her, the king coaxed her into looking into the mirror and concentrating.

"Can you see them?" he asked softly.

Sarah pushed back a few locks behind her hair that escaped from her updo. "Just Toby and Karen," she replied, voice strained. "They're...they're in a hospital waiting room."

She could see the industrial carpeting, itchy upholstery, and a few vending machines in the background. Toby looked simultaneously bored and anxious. Karen was gripping his hand, knuckles white. She just looked anxious, with heavy grey bags beneath her eyes that Sarah did not remember from before. Both were in sweatpants, the kinds of things one would throw on in a hurry in the midst of the night.

"I'm glad Marvin called us," Karen was saying. "I know I complain about your father's golfing buddies, but if they hadn't thought to call -"

She stifled back a small sob. Toby squeezed her hand even harder.

"I'll be okay, Mom," the child said. "The doctor said they'd know soon, and that they caught it just in time."

Karen did not look reassured. Sarah remembered that it was only two years ago that one of her father's best friends and an associate at his firm died of a sudden heart attack. He had only been 51. Her father hadn't openly cried, but did not go into work for a whole week. And, she recalled with a wince, it was only six years ago that her grandfather Miles had passed of an unexpected heart attack, even though he was a marathon runner in his early seventies. The expression on Karen's face told Sarah that she remember these two things all too well.

A few more moments passed before a doctor approached. The dingy white lab coat didn't inspire much confidence in Sarah, but she listened attentively as Karen rose swiftly.

"He's stable right now," the woman said. Her hair was in a messy bun, a few loose strands surrounding her face. She rocked back and forth of thick-soled sneakers. She looked tired. Then again everyone here looked tired. "And you can go in and see him for a bit. Quietly, he needs a calm environment. Tomorrow when he's had some more rest we'll run a few more tests."

"Will he need surgery?"

The doctor was very patient with Karen, speaking with a measured tone. "We won't know until we run additional EKGs tomorrow. For now, he is in the clear. He's hooked up to a heart monitor and he'll be under staff supervision for as long as he is with."

Karen inhaled deeply. Toby took her hand again as he picked her purse up off the floor. "Come on, Mom."

A nurse in teal scrubs led them down several winding and stark-looking hallways. They turned into a room dully lit by some fluorescent lights set into the wall. One half of the room was curtained off to another occupant. Karen looked like she was about to collapse at the sight of Robert, pale and attached to several monitors with wires and cords. She settled for approaching tentatively to kiss his forehead.

Sarah ran the back of her hand over her cheeks, pushing aside tears. Scooting closer to the mirror her knees ran up against the toes of Jareth's boots.

Robert smiled drowsily. He wiggled a few fingers against the pale blue blanket, eyes on Toby, who stood back to allow his mother a chance to say hello.

"How are you feeling?" Karen asked lowly.

Robert tilted his head. "My chest hurts a fair bit, but I'm fine."

She could tell by the way he shifted uncomfortably that he wasn't fine. He was probably sore and scared. Sarah pulled the mirror closer, straining to hear. They were murmuring now - promising to spend more time together, sharing their combined thankfulness and hope. Toby sat on the edge of the bed, clutching his dad's hand - something that he had not done in ages if Sarah remembered correctly. Relief was coloring Karen's cheeks again. She didn't look happy, per se, but now that she had seen Robert her shoulders sagged with the release of some of her stress.

"When can you come home?" Toby asked finally, putting his head lightly on his father's shoulder.

"The doctor said maybe tomorrow, after some tests," Robert said, ruffling Toby's blonde mop. "So we'll see. Hopefully soon, I don't want to miss your soccer game Thursday."

"Aw Dad, it's not even an important game."

"We'll both be there," Karen said firmly. "And if your father can't be will video him in."

"That's not a bad idea," Robert said, attempting to sound bright.

The family stayed huddled for a few more minutes, calm and weary. Sarah put her head against the seat cushion, breathing deeply as she watched them. Had Robert nearly died? In those moments had he thought about her? The thought that any of them might live and die without knowing her, knowing that they had lost her, brought an ache to her chest. But perhaps it was better Robert didn't know that sorrow.

A nurse with piles of hair on the top of her head and wrinkles framing her mouth like parentheses from too many smiles came to them, quietly explaining that Robert needed rest. They could come back in the morning. Everyone there would keep a close eye on him tonight. He would be okay.

Without protest Karen rose, crossing to kiss Robert then putting an arm around Toby's shoulders. After they left the room Sarah's view remained. She watched as the nurse took vitals, help Robert into a reclining position, then turn out the lights.

**-XXX-**

With a slight hiss, Jareth retracted his power, collapsing against the back of the armchair. He had been at it for nearly an hour, patient as Sarah cried into the images projected in the mirror's glass surface. Now he appeared ashen, drained through the effort. An hour was a long time, she supposed, to hold a scrying session. Especially in another dimension or realm or whatever it was. She knew little of magic, however.

"His pain ought to be lessened," Jareth sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "While the door was open I sent him as much comfort as I could manage. And I sent your stepmother and brother a charm to give them reduced anxiety. It should help all of them sleep tonight"

Stunned, Sarah's head snapped up. No wonder he was weary! Managing so many pieces of magic at once, seemingly complicated ones at that, was a lot of work!

Sarah looked up into his mismatched eyes, suddenly feeling a bit breathless. This man, this brilliant and lovely man had worn himself out for her and her family. He could have easily kept her father's illness from her. Instead, he had not just told her of it, but let her see her family. It made her heart swell. He really did care for her, despite everything

The words fell out of her, sounding more intentioned and of greater gravity than was perhaps wholly true.

"Jareth, " she said, honestly. "I love you."

His gaze dropped upon her, wide and surprised. And then, as if prompted, the Goblin King fainted.

**-XXX-**


	22. Chapter 22

**-XXX-**

Shocked, Sarah sat for a moment, still on the floor. Then she rushed to push the Goblin King into a sitting position, one hand going to his forehead and the other his wrist. He still felt clammy to her. Sweat coated his skin, beading at his forehead. Head loling against the armchair, his pale throat was exposed, pulse fluttering. Sarah supposed at first that he had overexerted himself.

But then a coppery fire burst into the heart of the room and she became convinced that it was something beyond tiredness that caused the Goblin King to pass out.

The old woman that stood in the midst of the room. She was bent over a twisted cane, gnarled hands drumming against the wood. Her smirk was full of mirth. Sparkling eyes with irises of a copper that matched the woman's fiery magic betrayed her true age. Dressed in a robe the color of stone, a collection of shells, feathers, leaves, and stones dangled from her belt. She appeared to be perfectly at-ease, striding forward as though she owned the entire palace.

"It took you long enough, girl," the crone said, clucking a grey tongue. "Nearly a year you've been here with my boy and you've taken your time. We were both starting to lose hope."

It took a moment for Sarah to collect herself enough to garner a response. "I'm terribly sorry but what have you been waiting for?"

The woman smiled, showing yellowed and crooked teeth. "For you to come to your senses and love him, of course."

"Is that so?" Sarah scowled. "I shan't get into the argument with you -"

"Oh, I have heard it all, dearie," said the woman with a wave of a hand. "You've been a captive, you're resentful, et cetera...that's not the least bit interesting to me. What you're going to do next is."

Sarah rose from where she still knelt next to the Goblin King. She kept a hand on his shoulder. "Who are you? What do you want with us? What have you done to Jareth?"

The crone cackled, eyes glowing.. "'Us?' How sweet. My, you are attached. He is fine," she added, gesturing to the fae still unconscious in the armchair. "Now, I am quite offended that you should not recognize me, child. We are great friends. I've known you nearly your whole life. You are one of the very few that have gone through my gates and come out the other side."

"Through your gates…." Sarah gawked. "You're the Labyrinth."

Snapping her fingers the old woman grinned. "You got it in one. Very good. But this grows tiresome. We must get to the matter of the deal." She hobbled forward to take up the divan, sinking onto the cushion with a release of air. As Sarah had previously observed, she moved through the room as if she owned it. And that's because she did. She _was_ the palace. The palace, the gardens and the maze too.

"What deal?" Sarah asked, suspicious. Her surprise had not dampened her curiosity. Or her fear.

"What deal?" The crone mocked. "Why the bargain your beloved made years and years ago! I am surprised you never found it, in all of your hours studying our history, it wasn't so far from you. You just needed to start at the beginning."

Sarah took a breath, praying for patience. "Why don't you tell me what was at the beginning, since it appears I failed to find that particular piece of history?" she asked sweetly.

"With pleasure, child." The Labyrinth smacked her lips. "Your beloved's family is cursed, you know. Mortals once, and they drew the ire of an old god. They were generously given charge of the goblins and stealing children. But they weren't fae yet, merely magic. Much like you are, or you will be, in time. That changed with the fifth generation went awry. That was when Jareth decided he was a bit too big for his britches. He decided to defy the curse. Left the goblin kingdom to go marry a mortal girl." The crone smiled. "But the gods didn't like that - and neither did I. So, they set him a few trials. Near-impossible things, the whole lot of them. If he could complete them and marry the girl, the family would be lifted from the curse of stealing children."

"He failed to complete the tasks?"

"Psh, of course not. He finished them, but not before time had played it usual tricks. By the time he completed the challenge his love was long gone. Time works differently here," she explained. "And since the deal was contingent on his marriage, he was fully fae. Him, and his descendants."

"What does this have to do with me?" Sarah demanded. She was sitting on the arm of Jareth's chair now, balancing as she stroked his cheek fearfully.

"Jareth was not satisfied. He was thrust back into his responsibilities, his love was dead, and he was doing that which he hated most - stealing children. So, he struck up another bargain." She smiled widely, stretching. "At the time I was just a minor god. There weren't many of us left. Many of us were looking for our own small domains. One of my cousins is in the mountains to the north, overseeing the land and mining. I was considering my options when your beloved approached me. He offered his labyrinth as my new home. And better yet, he wanted to make a deal. You see, only gods can end a curse such as his."

"What did he bargain?"

"Why, you, dear." The crone leaned back against the cushions. Her fingers danced in the air for a moment, producing a goblet of wine. One appeared in the air beside Sarah. She accepted it, wary of the possibility of insulting this being. "I told him I'd be happy to take up his little maze. If he wanted all of his responsibility eliminated he needed to only do one thing - marry a mortal."

"That's twisting the knife a bit," Sarah remarked dryly.

The Labyrinth grinned. "I know, I know. But I had to be sure he was serious. And it wasn't as simple as that. He needed to find a champion out of the runners first, then coax them to love him."

"So then my job is done," she said with a shrug. "I said I loved him, I'm a champion."

"Oh, but my dear, if only it were that easy." Those copper eyes shone. "No, love isn't as easy as saying the words. It must be proven."

"How?" Sarah asked argumentative tone color her voice. "Love is something, if I'm not mistaken, that is highly based on faith."

"Maybe to you humans. But I need something a little stronger. I'm not about to let our boy be heartbroken again, after all."

The young woman crossed her arms, stepping out from behind the chair. "And if I refuse to play your game?"

The crone shrugged. "No skin off my nose. The babes will keep coming and your beloved will continue to rule over the Labyrinth. You'll remain here, but I can't guarantee anything about you. You'll be stuck somewhere between mortal and immortal, and your sweet Jareth will know that you did not love him enough."

"And if I prove myself, whatever that means," Sarah replied. "The curse will be broken, Jareth doesn't have to kidnap children anymore -"

"-Unless he wants to," interjected the Labyrinth.

Sarah ignored her, continuing. "And we could leave? We could help the goblins set up a new monarchy or republic or whatever, and find our own path?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "The old gods thrust that upon him. He's king for life, and long life it will be. If you run and win Sarah Williams, you will be bound as queen. Jareth promised me a queen, and queen you shall be. The goblin kingdom will thrive under you."

" _The promise of a queen,"_ echoed in Sarah's head

" _The laws of this land dictate that there be a queen."_

" _I told you there was a promise made to the land of a queen."_

It wasn't him who demanded a partner. It was the curse and the Labyrinth herself. He might not even love her.

Sarah scolded herself for such thoughts. Regardless of his motives, Jareth needed her. The goblins needed her.

"Why do you need me?" she asked. "Jareth is a fine king. Can't you release him from this just on that?"

"That's not the contract we agreed upon," the crone said, smacking her lips. "Now come, Sarah. You've done it once before. You're a champion, after all. Not like all of the other girls."

"They weren't any different than me. It was luck. Nothing more."

Turning, Sarah contemplated. It seemed all she was good for was bargains. She was a pawn in other's games. When her parents divorced Linda had leveraged her, and when that had dried up she'd exchanged Sarah's life for a tainted form of fame. Jareth had gambled with her too, it seemed, balancing her freedom with that of her baby brother's. And before that, even, putting all hope upon her unknowing shoulders against the power of a goddess - of his Labyrinth. Was her life worth nothing more than the deals struck upon it?

She looked down at Jareth, still unconscious in the chair. He looked pale and drawn, cheeks hollow and eyelids the color of lilac petals. Reaching out to run her fingers through his hair. Jareth would want her to run. This is what he'd been working towards. Why he took Toby, years ago, why he made that awful deal with Linda, why he wanted to keep her out of the Labyrinth until she was ready. This was the reason he'd given her a bow, insisted she takes lessons. Why he brought her to the library and tried to encourage her to read their histories. He had wanted her to be prepared. He didn't just want a queen, he wanted another runner, one that was prepared.

"What do you say, Sarah Williams?"

Her last venture into the Labyrinth had not been successful. She had nearly died, and that was when she had merely explored a small corner. Who knew what was in the rest of the Labyrinth? As the Labyrinth had pointed out, it wasn't as though Sarah had not done it before - but that was the "before" Sarah can't remember.

She thought of her father, looking tired and small. Of Karen, stressed with tight hands, and Toby, worrying his lower lip. Meldy, smug smile as she dressed Sarah to draw the king's eye. Hoggle showing her how to pull carrots with Ludo lowly calling rocks in the background. Didymus looking at her with admiration, saying "my lady" with such reverence.

Sarah turned back to the crone. "Very well. I will do it."

The Labyrinth smiled and snapped her knobby fingers.

They were standing on a hill of red sand, surrounded by scrubby bushes, black and bone-like trees, and white strands of grass. A perfect view of the Labyrinth and the city in the distance. It was easy to make out the varying levels of stone, forest, and garden. Her eyes traced the lines of walls and barriers, trying to make out any kind of straight path. There was no use. Even if the distance were not an issue, the circumference of the space did not allow her to discern where passages began and ended.

"It doesn't look so bad," Sarah said, tightening her jaw.

"It's further than you think!" quipped the Labyrinth, copper eyes gleaming. She smacked her lips, rustling some of the shells and bones on her belt as she moved forward to stand next to the girl. "You don't need to just get to the city or the center. You need to get to your lad as well in three day's time."

"Piece of cake."

The goddess laughed. "You are a delight. I do hope you make it out of this, Sarah Williams."

Sarah pushed back several of the strands that blew in her face. Her hair was no longer swept up, nor was she wearing the silk dress or the aquamarine eardrops. She wore tight pants, a tunic, and a belt heavy with attachments. A backpack sat at her feet. Reaching back, Sarah felt the comfortable weight of her bow and quiver on her back. The Labyrinth was giving her the advantage of weapons. This did not necessarily comfort her.

She glanced at the Labyrinth from the corner of her eye. "Why are you helping me? Giving me weapons and tools doesn't seem to your advantage."

"It's only fair," she shrugged. "There will be a lot of adversity ahead, and it's only sportsmanlike to at least give you some basic defenses. Trust me. I can't go easy on you. Even though I like you, girl."

"I guess I am complimented," she said dryly. "I hope this means you find me worthy."

The crone cackled. "Only if you win, my dear. Make it worth his while. And mine too. It will be a treat, watching you."

"I'll do my best to give you a good show." Sarah rocked on the balls of her feet. Already it was afternoon. She wondered how far she could go before nightfall. Could she even make it past the level of stone? Or was that, the level with the greatest circumference, too great a challenge for the six or so hours of sunlight she had left?

Looking down, she noticed that the air beside her was empty. The goddess was gone. Sarah turned around, but she was nowhere to be found. When Sarah looked back at the Labyrinth, she could see the gate ahead.

**-XXX-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Labyrinth is inspired after a Tamora Pierce character from the Trickster's duology, one of my favorite series. I heavily recommend it.


	23. Chapter 23

**-XXX-**

The first level of the Labyrinth was the stone level. It wasn't a very creative name, Sarah observed as she trailed along, but it was not inaccurate. Walls surrounded her, imposing and damp. She'd been walking for thirty minutes and there hadn't been a break yet. Just wall, wall, and more wall. This appeared to be the border of the entire Labyrinth, so maybe she just needed to cover more ground.

It looked as though no one had been there for a long, long time. Decaying branches and broken limbs littered the ground. Cream-colored mushrooms and shaggy moss crept up the walls. Sarah could have sworn some of them had eyestalks that followed her as she moved. She tried not to look too close.

At some point, she came across an overgrown stretch. Searching for a solution, she found the dagger Hoggle gave her strapped onto her belt. It took a few moments to figure out how to summon the sword. Gripping the hilt and pressing the white stone in the middle cause the blade to grow into a sizeable sword. Placing both hands on the hilt she swung, cutting down the thorny obstruction. When she was done she had wished she'd worn gloves. Her hands were sliced to bits, bloody red scratches scattered across every other inch.

Later, when she found the pair of black gloves in her pack she smiled wryly. When she least needed it…

Another twenty minutes of walking yielded few results. Sarah's confidence was waning. This was only the first of three levels and she'd been here nearly an hour with no results. With a sigh, she stopped jogging as she'd been doing for the last few minutes and sank to the ground, back against the wall as she caught her breath and considered her options.

"Allo!"

Sarah glanced around. Something had hailed her with a greeting but there was no one in sight.

"Down here," said the high-pitched voice. Sarah looked down and to her surprise found a small blue...something. Maybe a worm or a caterpillar? It was kind of fuzzy, with large eyes and a bright red scarf.

"Did you...say hello?" she asked faintly.

"No, I said allo, but close enough," he said with a nod. "Why don't you come inside and meet my missus?"

"Oh, thank you very much," Sarah said respectfully. "But I'm afraid I cannot today. I'm on my way to the castle in the center of the Labyrinth and I'm on a bit of a schedule."

The worm nodded age sagely. "Ah, yes. Well, you aren't so far now."

"Really?" the girl smiled. "I've only just started. I'm at the very start."

"Yes," agreed the worm, gesturing straight ahead. "But if you go right there it'll take you nearly straight up to the castle. To the gardens, anyway. Or the landfill, depending on which exit you take."

Sarah gaped. The thing he was pointing at was a wall. By now Sarah knew well enough nothing was quite what it seemed here. Still, the stone looked very solid.

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yes. Go on."

Sarah pushed herself up off the wall, tentatively crossing to the wall, hands out.

"Go on," said the worm again.

Stepping forward, Sarah watched as her hands sank into the wall - the wall that wasn't there. It was an optical illusion! The furthest wall was painted to blend in with that of the outer, appearing closer than it actually was. She was standing in a passage with options to go either left or right. Finally, a bit of progress.

Turning back to her new friend, Sarah asked, "Which is the fastest way to the center of the Labyrinth?"

"Right," he replied without hesitation. Sarah beamed.

"Thank you," she said. "And I'm sorry I cannot stay for tea, though I'll try to come back soon. Please tell your wife I send my regards."

The blue caterpillar bowed his head. "Best of luck, my lady."

**-XXX-**

The map would have been a nice aid right about now, Sarah thought with a sigh. If only she had been granted leave to pack her own bags. It was lucky that she had been given her sword and bow, along with some basic provisions - cheese, dried meats, some bread and a few pieces of fruit, and a waterskin. The goddess had also been kind enough to dress her in a pair of comfortable pants that hugged her comfortably and a breathable tunic, along with some sturdy boots and a cloak that was light, yet warm. She appreciated the alteration to her attire, and that she had been given her weapons. The bow and quiver were a comforting weight upon her back.

In her gloved hands, she balanced her sword as she strode through the forest. The turn the worm had directed her towards had sent her down a dark and narrow way which opened to the forest. It was eerie in a way Sarah had only encountered in books and video games. The trees dripped with moss, fading in and out from a blanket of greenish-grey mist.

Paired with strange and difficult-to-identify noises, Sarah often found herself doing an awkward walk-run to hurry away from the creepier sounds. The rattles and huffs were fine enough. Some of the bird calls were slightly concerning at first. But the worst was the howl of the wind, and the distant grunting growl that she dearly hoped was just imagined.

Sarah just stayed on the path. Eyes ahead. Never back. It seemed at times that she was going in circles, though she could not say why. Nothing appeared familiar. It just felt like she was going nowhere.

If Robert Williams were here he would say something sage and dad-like about being patient even when it feels like your life is at a standstill. That in time, things would clear and she would see she'd moved miles. This thought put a small pain in Sarah's gut. In accepting the Labyrinth's challenge had she tossed away her chance at seeing her family again?

"Winning will be worth it," she murmured as she leveraged herself up a huge rotting log that was blocking the path.

Defeating this challenge could mean powers of her own, maybe. She doesn't know what she would do if she had the same kind of power as Jareth. It honestly scared her to think that she might be able to change the world around her so dramatically. Could she really bear to reorder time or jump realms?

"I'll have to," Sarah whispered, gritting her teeth. She had made it to the top of the log and was stopping to take a breath, opening her pack and partaking of some of the bread and cheese. The waterskin was emptied, then quickly refilled itself. She was grateful, again, for the Labyrinth's unnecessary kindness.

As she ate, she observed what lay ahead. The fallen tree was upon the crest of a hill. She could see more twists and turns ahead - more forest, more obstacles - and then the next and final level of the Labyrinth before the city. She was making good time. There was still a lot ahead, however, and much of it a mystery. A grey-ish stretch between the end of the woods and the lush manicured hedges. Screwing her eyes to see, Sarah failed to discern what, exactly, was ahead. Hours of studying the map weren't helping her now. She couldn't think of what that odd section of barren land was.

"Well feet," she said. "Let's get moving."

Sliding down, she landed onto the path with a hard "thud," and that was when the beast behind her roared.

**-XXX-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found some notes somewhere about the various Labyrinth "levels" created by the filmmakers, discussing the stone vs hedge, etc. Unfortunately, I can't find the link anymore, but it was super interesting.


	24. Chapter 24

**-xxx-**

Despite his exhaustion, Robert Williams has difficulty falling asleep in his assigned hospital bed. The blanket is scratchy. He can hear nurses moving through the hall at a purposeful speed, on thick comfortable soles. There is a constant low light, which hums in the way fluorescent bulbs do, and Robert is reminded that he cannot sleep without total darkness. Somewhere around 2, his night nurse comes to check his vitals. She is not surprised he is still awake.

"You need to try to get some sleep," she said in her lilting voice. She is wearing pink scrubs, patterned with small winged hearts. Her hands are strong but gentle as she plumps his pillow. "Are you still in pain?"

He was not. Robert was surprised to realize this. He had not felt pain in hours.

"That stuff is good," he says, gesturing to his IV.

The nurse frowns. "You haven't had anything since 7," she murmured.

She administers a light sleep aid and leaves him be. In a few minutes, despite the noise and the light and uncomfortable blanket, Robert drifts into sleep.

When he enters his dreams they are filled with a fierce green-eyed girl with straight brown hair and a determined jaw. She's holding a sword and wearing the kind of clothes people wear at a renaissance festival. The landscape is dark, twilight perhaps. The girl - no, the young woman - was moving through a grove of trees, silhouetted against the sunset sky. The sword held at her side rises only to hack away at brush.

In his dreams, Robert finds a new ache in his chest. Not the physical kind. The girl reminded him of something. Something he lost. Someone he lost.

The name on the wind is " _Sarah."_

**-XXX-**

Sarah wondered if this beast at all corresponded with the sounds she'd heard. It was difficult to tell. Those sounds were distant and vague. The terrible, terrible noises she was hearing now were distinct and close.

The beast was massive. It had a slight humanoid appearance - arms and legs and a torso. But the head. The head was large and heavy, set with wild eyes and a wide nose. A bull's head. A minotaur.

His body was covered with a close black coat straining over muscle. A long tail switched back and forth. Sarah knew that unlike the other beings she'd met here he did not share the humanity of a rational being - he was naked and non-verbal, making only grunts. Her eyes were drawn to the place between his legs, where an angry stretch of skin threatened. If he caught her, he would likely rape her. Then kill her.

Greek Classics had not been Sarah's favorite or even her most informative class in college. But it did at least give her a little context for what, exactly, was pursuing her. The minotaur was from the myth of Icarus. His father had built a labyrinth in Crete to house the creature. Poor souls were cast into the maze to be eaten by the minotaur. If Sarah recalled correctly, the one from the myth was killed by an arrogant prince.

Sarah did not trust her sword skills to accomplish that task. For starters, the beast was at least three times bigger than she, not to mention infinitely stronger. When she had spotted him crashing through the trees, she bolted down the path, but now she had met a dead end. For the first time, the forest broke into wall, cold and hard and a deep misfortune. She skirted left, tearing through the brush. The wall was to her right with no breaks. And soon the beast was behind her. The sound of him raging through the undergrowth sped her through. Sarah didn't even try to hide her trail or quite her movement. It wouldn't matter.

A root cropped up suddenly and sent her flying forward face-first. She gasped as she flung herself up. He was close. She had lost time. Her head swiveled, eyes frantically searching.

Her nearest escape was a tree. Could minotaurs climb?

It didn't matter. For now, it was her best shot. If Sarah could get the high ground she could potentially take him down with her bow.

" _If I do not kill him I could at least blind him."_

The thought turned her stomach as she began to scramble up a nearby oak. She was thankful that the trunk was covered in vines that made for easy climbing. By the time she was about twenty feet up, the minotaur was in sight. There was a froth of saliva at his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot. At the sight of her, he gnashed his teeth.

Sarah had her bow in hand. Balancing on a tree limb was not the dream. She wasn't sure if she could even aim properly with all of the limbs surrounding her. Sarah rose, praying that her balance was enough to anchor her. She fit her arrow against the bowstring, pulled back, and aimed.

He wasn't at the base of the tree yet, but closing in. Those unsettling eyes were on her. Her hands quivered. "Steady," she whispered. "Steady."

The arrow was released.

It was off its mark by a bit. She hit his right shoulder first. It was the throat she had wanted.

The minotaur let out a roar. He charged the tree. Sarah restrung and aimed again.

This time she struck her mark. Instantly blood was spurting out from his throat. The minotaur gurgled as he staggered forward. He was at the bottom of the oak now, sinking to his knees as he made wretched sounds. As the beast fell forward his outreached fists struck the tree, nearly shaking her from her perch. Sarah clutched the trunk. She remained, frozen until the muscles of the minotaur's back stopped moving up and down with breath.

Easing down the tree, she kept one eye on the minotaur. When back on the ground she reassured herself that his eyes were glassy with death. Once that she knew she turned and walked away.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that she realized her cheeks were wet. Tears. She was crying.

Sarah had _not wanted_ to kill him. She had no desire to kill anyone or anything. But she had not been given a choice. Even though he was a vile beast her heart ached. He could not help what he was; he was a beast.

Twilight had come by the time she found an exit to the forest. She had reached the space between the woods and the garden, that grey area she'd spotted earlier. It was grey, she realized because it too was covered in its own thick layer of mist. Set in a valley, the foggy swirl left a lot to the imagination. The area was large, but she could possibly get through it before night had fallen too deep. Wistfully she considered how much faster this journey would go with Squash. He would undoubtedly have been a quivery mess in the forest, but he had longer legs and greater stamina. And he would have been company.

Sarah threw her shoulders back. There was no point in wishful thinking now. She needed to get moving.

**-XXX-**

Despite the dark and cover of heavy mist, Sarah could make out the idea of the blank area she'd entered. Hills upon hills of garbage lined narrow stretches that could be a path or merely an accident of organization. It was a….trash yard? A landfill? It was unclear.

There were many mechanics of the Labyrinth that Sarah had never considered until she realized she had a glaring lack of knowledge. Export, for instance. She wasn't terribly familiar with the trade. Or the systems of government. Was the Labyrinth and the Goblin Kingdom solely a monarchy, or was it balanced by a parliament or some kind of counsel? What about sewage? There was running water throughout the kingdom, but where did it come from? Where did it go? Was it processed after it had been used?

Trash was another thing that she had not thought much about. Every civilization, especially those on a similar scale to that of the Goblin Kingdom, had need of some kind of system of trash collection. The trash cannot simply sit in the city. Not only was it generally unpleasant, it was deeply unhealthy. Sarah wasn't sure how environmentally friendly the Goblin City's landfill-esque solution was, but at the moment it wasn't something she was overly concerned with. Right now she was much more focused on how she was going to navigate around the mountains of refuse.

Steeling herself, the young woman began the trek down the hill. There were path-like areas that wound through, though that really just meant that the trash in that area was tamped down a little rather than loose. Sarah had to work at holding her balance. It was like walking on river rocks. Tricky, but not impossible.

Every so often she could see figures moving in the distance. Ladened with great piles upon their person, they appeared to be squat grey creatures. Any time one caught sight of her it gave a squawk and hurried along, doing its best to avoid her.

Something about the timid creatures struck a chord of memory with her. It niggled at her but nothing came forth.

Sarah felt relatively at-ease (if not a little grossed out) climbing among the piles of trash. That is until she caught sight of something...slithering.

She jumped back immediately. It was a ways off, moving through a nearby heap of rotting fruit. She could make out mottled skin crusted with mold and slime as it slid through the waste.

"Is that a...a trash snake?" she asked aloud. The words sounded ridiculous, yet she had no better way to describe the creature that was moving past her.

As if it had heard her wonderment the creature pause. Then, slowly, she watched as the mound of trash adjusted as it turned to face her. One look into its bright orange eyes told Sarah that it was not a creature that could be reasoned with.

Slowly she backed up, hand going to rest on the hilt that was strapped to her belt. The beast blinked with strange double lids, pink forked tongue tasting the air for hints of her, curling closer.

It just her luck that she would be forced to fight two monsters in one day. She wasn't even halfway through the damn maze and here was her second moment of violence. Very carefully Sarah gripped the pommel of her dagger. One motion would remove it from the sheath and transform it into a sizeable sword. It was all a matter of timing.

"Come on," she murmured. "Neither of us wants this."

She needed the reassurance more than the serpent that she was not some killing machine who reveled in death. The circumstances demanded that she do this. She had no choice. Right?

The snake curved right and Sarah followed, not allowing it leverage on an open side, eyes trapped upon the creature, unmoving. Very slowly she withdrew her hand from her belt, bringing out the dagger with it and pressing upon the white stone in the pommel to summon a longer blade. The serpent's eyes never wavered. Sarah suppressed a sigh.

Just as she was starting to think maybe this was nothing more than a staring contest, something caught her eye in the background. The beast's narrow tail was coiling dangerously. It was making itself smaller. Readying to strike.

In a flash, her sword was up in a defensive position just in time to block the blow of the snake's massive head. She threw her arms forward, pushing the creature back before slashing outwards, striking it on the nose. It made a guttural noise and fell back.

Sarah ran.

She had thought the moment of distraction might be enough of a warning. Maybe it would be too stunned.

She was wrong.

The serpent knew the trash kingdom far better than Sarah and had the advantage of weaving in and out of tight places with its smooth body. Soon she was catching flashes of mottled scales pass her by. It was circling.

Ahead she could make out greenery and clean lines. A landscape that was not a trash heap. Something that was safe. The snake wouldn't have a place to hide there, without mountains of trash it would be forced out into the open.

" _You could stay and fight,"_ a voice suggested. The pit in her stomach dropped further. She didn't want to kill again.

Sword heavy in her hand, Sarah lunged forward as the serpent darted out from the left. She tripped, rolling then springing back up onto her feet. Having never been particularly athletic, this would have normally been impressive. But she didn't have time to be impressed. Drawing her sword back up from the ground Sarah heaved ahead again. The mottled body of the snake lay across the path and she jumped, clearing the creature's spine by mere inches.

There were hedges ahead. She could make them out occasionally, past the heaps of refuse. Gravel paths. Manicured shrubs. Perhaps the twinkle of a fountain splashing water. She was nearly there.

A hiss on her left told her she wasn't free yet. If only she did not have to run with the sword in hand, it slowed her down so much -

Was that a puff of air on her shoulder? Was it behind her?

She nearly lost her footing again on a discarded piece of paper. While there were distinct "paths" winding through the garbage, she was still stepping on trash, still dodging larger items. And she likely smelled dreadful. This wasn't a Bog-level stench, but it still seeped into your pores as a result of merely being in the area.

One more corned and she could see a gate. Adrenaline soared through her veins to push her forward those last stretch. The rustling of the serpent moving through the waste-filled her ears. Another puff of air on her back. Oh, the stench.

Plummeting up to the gate, Sarah's feet instinctively knew where to find footholds. She climbed up, up, up -

Once at the top the whole gate reverberated as the snake below thrashed. Sarah clung on to the metal. If she just dropped down now, she'd be free. There were nearly fifteen feet between her and the gravel below. Climbing down the other side was safer, but it was not an option. She tried to recall the rules in her 10th-grade drama class about safe falling. But that had been based around the notion of less distance and the possibility of a cushioned mat.

The snake rammed the gate again and this time Sarah barely managed to cling on. It was now or never.

She didn't pass out immediately after hitting the ground. Every inch of her felt bruised, yes, and her body was crashing from two desperate exertions of energy. She had enough left in her to drag forward, eyes on the ground. When her feet met solid stone, Sarah collapsed


	25. Chapter 25

**-XXX-**

She has had this dream before. A crystal ballroom draped in pearls and candelabras. Masked people moving around with a confidence she has yet to find. Spinning, trying to find her partner. Eyes on her, laughter stabbing at a meek place in her chest. Lost, confused. Feeling like a child in a room full of things too adult. The only steadiness to be found the gloved hand of - of -

But things are different. She is different. This is not her dream.

The Sarah of innocence, of white dresses and pearls, is replaced by someone older, wise. The woman on the Goblin King's arm has a grace rivaled only by her partner. Her dress is a dove grey, crown ornamented with a circlet of green stones and stormy pearls. Where others drip excess, she shines in simplicity. There is no spinning, no doubt, no fear. The dancing is not filled with lustful closeness, but measured motions and gentle movements.

As she mirrors a masked Jareth through dance, she wonders when he dreamed this scene. Was this what he'd imagined, years ago, when she first ran the Labyrinth? Is this the dream he'd wanted, rather than lewd and entirely too adult, something more regal and resigned? Memory strained, she could recall a rakish Jareth back then. But he hadn't been calm nor...happy? Content? Had that Jareth been real?

His cheek rested against her head as he drew her from the dance floor to a quiet part of the room. They breathed in time until he pulled back, grasping her chin as he coaxed her to look up.

"This always ends the same way," he said conversationally. "And we're nearly there. Oh, but it was so wonderful this time."

"How often do you have this dream?" she asked, incredulous.

The mask hides too much of his eyes for her to make out his thoughts, but his thin lips twist in a smile. "Who said anything about dreams?"

She thought then he might kiss her, but he merely drops his hands to her, squeezing as he pressed his face to her temple and breaths deep. With that, he's gone and she's standing before a glassy wall and the sound has stopped. In the reflection of the wall, she can see the room moving behind her, see musicians moving their hands on instruments but there is no sound, no air, no anything. Just her, the reflections, and the chair.

The motion is practiced. Mechanical. She lifts the chair up and the wall shatters. As everything tips up the dress fall away and Sarah feels herself melting into a new scene.

**-XXX-**

Something still wasn't right. This wasn't anywhere she has been, in a field of tall yellow grass, overlooking a picturesque scenery. In the valley below sat a village that looks like it's straight out of a storybook. A river cut through it, creating charming bridges that lead to what appear to be cobble-paved streets. Neat fields added a patchwork quilt quality to the landscape. It took her a moment to realize what is missing. Having spent so long in the Underground she was used to not seeing cars, telephone, and electric lines, plastic trash bins.

She turned and started at finding herself near one of the farms she'd been observing. There's a cottage draped with roses, topped with a thatched roof. It's complete with a small barn, a well, a stocked woodpile, and a few chickens clucking away in the yard. A woman with flaxen hair puts laundry out to dry on a line. A blonde boy fed some goats in the fenced area attached to the modest barn. Neither seems to notice the stranger in their midst as they go through the motion of daily chores.

A giggling catches her attention. Just to her left, tucked in the grass is a couple. They are young, probably near her age. The woman is dark-haired, with sparkling green eyes and rose-pink lips. Her hair falls in pretty waves, though most of it is tied back with a kerchief. Her blue dress is worn and its style tells Sarah that she's looking at a time before sewing machines. Probably a time before a lot of things.

The young man was just as handsome, though in a startling way. He almost seemed to glow with good health and beauty. His fair hair was nearly white it was so blond, and his skin was a golden color Sarah could not recall ever seeing outside of glossy magazine pages. He's facing mostly away from her, face buried in the neck of his beloved as she stifled laughter so it takes Sarah several minutes to realize what she's looking at. Her gasp must have been audible for the young man looks up suddenly, mismatched eyes flashing her way.

He looked right through her, but Sarah felt rooted to the spot regardless.

"What is it?" the young woman asked softly, hand going to Jareth's shoulder. His tension disappeared as he leans back into her touch, saying "Nothing, just the wind, I think."

She'd never seen him so at ease. The lines that aged the face Sarah knew were nonexistent. He hasn't had the burden of the curse on him yet. This was a very young Jareth and it hurts her heart to see the comparison.

"When shall you speak to my father?" the young woman asked softly.

He kissed her on the nose. "Soon. I swear it. I just want to be sure."

"He likes you. They all like you."

"There's more than that working against us," he replied grimly. "But it shall be a start."

Her hand slid to his chest. Sarah noticed that it was a surprisingly worn and strong hand, one that had seen work. Jareth's hand soon lay atop as he moved to kiss her brow again.

"After I get your father's permission I will just need a fortnight to return to my family then I will return to you. We'll be wed, we can find our own plot of land, start our lives. We don't need much and we'll be on our way."

His eyes were bright in a strange way. He was...hopeful. A pang struck in Sarah's chest sharply. This was a Jareth with his whole life ahead of him, with the freshness of love and plans well-laid. Jareth before his dreams were irrevocably crushed by forces far beyond his control.

"And you promise you'll return?" The young woman's voice was light and teasing, but the crease between her brow betrays genuine fear.

Jareth placed his hands upon her shoulder. "As soon as I can. I will be here before the harvest time and we shall be married that very day. Nothing could keep you from me. I would move heaven and earth to get back to you."

Her expression softens as she leaned up for another kiss. Gently, the young man eases her back onto their blanket, covering his body with hers as the tall grass hides them from view.

Sarah felt a strange hollowness. She felt no jealousy over their affections. This Jareth was barely recognizable to the proud Goblin King she knew. But to see the precursor to the aloof fae she knows now, to see what might have been... it was utterly surreal. He was so d _ifferent._ The edge in his eyes were gone. They were clear and free in a way she had never seen.

Unsure of what to do, she looked back towards the house. The boy had moved on to the garden plot beside the barn. She watched him weed the rows, unable to move as the couple before her curled around each other.

There was a snapping sound behind her and Sarah twisted to look. The scene shifted. The sky ahead shed its sunny disposition, assuming a more somber expression with thick grey clouds. The fields were no longer lush but patched with dirt and scruff. Mist swirled on the ground. A glance at the bare trees told Sarah it was well into winter.

Now she stood in the middle of a dirt road. Silhouetted in the fog she can make out a somewhat sinister figure moving towards her. As it drew closer she recognized a heavily cloaked Jareth. Pale, expression grim, he strides forward at a determined pace. Again he looks through her, leaving Sarah to trail after him. His face is sharper and has lost some of the gleams but he is still young. At least younger than the Jareth she knows. The lines she knew were nonexistent on this face. But he no longer appeared as carefree as he had been in the field.

How many years had passed since that day in the field? Jareth told her he'd returned to the Underground, where time worked differently. But how long had it been, if the fae looked aged?

They entered a town. The cobbled streets were nearly bare at this point in the evening. Jareth seemed to know his way. Wearily he winds his way through the streets until he's passing the town altogether, selecting a path up a hill, heading towards a collection of buildings that overlook the community. Sarah struggles to keep pace. As they near she realizes that they are back at the farm. Suddenly, she feels very anxious.

If he noted the new barn on the property, the rotting fences, or the lack of rose vines, she could not say. The thatch was new, but the exposed walls of the cottage were cracked and layered with years of dirt. Much had changed. And they are not the changes that happen with the mere chance of the season.

He paused at the door for a moment before knocking. Sarah held her breath.

The stout blonde man who answers does not display a flicker of recognition. She thought maybe he might be the boy from before, but she cannot tell. Sarah does not hear the words between them. It does not take long for her to see Jareth's entire body language shift. He says a few words to the man at the door then turns away, fists clenched, cloak billowing as he headed back down the hill. Sarah followed again, keeping her distance.

Sarah thought she could make out a shudder in his form. She knew how this story will end. Knew that it will not be a happy one.

They make their way on the outskirts of town, heading south until they reach a small shabby church made of grey, mossy rock. A stone fence and iron gate protected the cemetery. Jareth's footsteps take on a lot of weight as they approach. He hesitates at the gate but opens it gently. Sarah winces at the cry it makes. She slips in after Jareth. Without haste he moves through the rows, scanning the names and dates. It takes some time before he is given pause.

A simple stone in the furthest corner sits with a bouquet of dead wildflowers gracing the base. Jareth stopped before it. The fae is rooted where he stands. Wind blew his hair, the flaxen strands moving over his face in a way that was likely irritating. But he did not move. Not for a long time.

**-XXX-**


	26. Chapter 26

— **-XXX—**

Sarah was getting quite tired of waking up in unfamiliar places. It wasn't something she'd ever had a problem with prior to the last year in the Underground, not even in her crazier college days.

At the very least, this was not a sweat and pot-infused frat boy's bedroom. There were no Sports Illustrated Bikini Edition posters here, anyway. Just the gentle tinkle of water and a mild breeze. Sarah blinked up at the clear blue of a morning sky, savoring the lingering essence of sleep as she took account of the various aches and pains that crept into focus as she drew closer and closer to a state of awake.

A strange shadow befell her, blocking the sky as a figure peered over her with a mild look of concern. It took Sarah a moment to discern that what was looking at her was a stout man with a long white beard and mustache, glasses sitting atop his head, and after that a — a —

Bird?

The hat with a head cocked itself, blinking.

"Oh good," it said in a trilling voice. "She's awake. We won't need to call for the rock caller. Nasty business, digging graves."

Sarah winced at the reminder of her dream and propped herself up on sore elbows, ignoring the creak of her ribs in protest. "I'm not quite out for the count yet. Can you tell me what day it is?"

"You have only been unconscious a few hours," said the old man. When he spoke his mustache puffed out with the stream of air. "We found you just beyond the gate there and brought you here to the fountain. Are you quite well?"

"Yes," she lied. "And I ought to go on. I'm headed to the castle at the center of the Labyrinth. Can you set me in the right direction?"

"Sometimes, young lady," the Wiseman said sagely, turning to walk towards a throne-like seat made of books that sat center to the fountain, "the way forward is the way back."

"The way back has a homicidal snake and angry minotaur," she muttered as she stood, brushing herself off. Raising her voice, she said, "Thank you, but I am looking for less, er, abstract direction. I'm in need to getting to the castle to see the Goblin King, so you see, I do need to go, uh...forward, I suppose."

He put his chin on his elbow, bushy brows furrowing. "Well, then, I suppose you'll want to head west, towards the rose garden."

Rose gardens sounded pleasant. Better than a landfill, by far. But at the sight of her expression, the bird chortled.

"It isn't that kind of rose garden. Prepare for it to be much more prickly," it grinned in a foreboding way. Sarah tried to ignore the drop in her stomach.

"But are you sure this is what you truly want?" the old man continued, ignoring his companion. "Life here? Because as I am sure you have seen, young woman, it is not the cheerful place of your childhood."

This caught her. Had he been so astute before? She didn't remember. Everything was in fuzzy, broken pieces.

"Yes," she replied evenly.

He leaned back in his chair. The bird settled back with him, brows raised. "It will not be the fairy tale of your last attempt."

"That wasn't much of a fairy tale, was it?" Sarah shot back coolly. "I nearly lost myself and my brother. And then I forgot everything."

The bird shrugged. "It's all a matter of perspective. Some would say you gained strength from that excursion. And a familial bond."

"A bond that is virtually meaningless now."

The hat shrugged again, tilting his beak. "Perhaps not."

She turned back to the Wiseman, only to find that he was snoring, head loling back. Agape, she shook her head. The hat sighed.

"You were fortunate enough to get those ten minutes," he told her primly. "Now, a donation would be appreciated for services rendered." Somehow, he manipulated his master's hand so that it jangled a small coin box on his lap.

Sarah eyed the box. "Services meaning the philosophic bull about moving backward? No thank you."

"And dragging your lifeless body from the gate." He nodded to the track in the gravel behind them, indicating the work done to move her away from the entrance into a hedged level. Grudgingly, Sarah acknowledged that payment would be appropriate. Reaching up to her ears, she recalled that her earrings were gone. There was nothing of value in her pack, nor in the rose pouch that was a Yule gift from Didymus. The only thing she had was her sword and bow, and she was not about to give those up. Except...her eyes trailed to the ring sitting on her middle finger. Jareth's ring.

The spring green stone glistened in the morning sun. Hesitant, Sarah touched it. She had not taken it off since he transformed it at Equinox from a circlet to a ring.

"What do you say," the bird said abruptly. "You keep your pretty baubles. And we say you owe us a favor."

"A favor?"

His yellowy eye glinted. "Nothing too big, my lady. Just a guarantee to have your ear in a time of need."

She couldn't help but feel that she was walking into a trap. But for the sake of maintaining at least one alliance here, she agreed.

—-XXX—-

As she walked westward through the hedges, she devoured a fourth of her bread, one apple, and a chunk of cheese. She was famished and sore. Her legs were steady, though her thighs ached. Her ribs felt bruised, her right wrist tender, and her neck sore. But she was moving. That's all that truly mattered.

Manicured and prim, the hedge level indicated a closeness to the palace that excited her. She could see it if she stood on tiptoes and tilted her head back. Spirits lifting, Sarah let herself relax marginally. In time she felt good enough to start a steady jog towards what she hoped was the rose garden.

Running was her arch-nemesis. The only thing that made it even moderately tolerable was music, but here she was without her phone and earbuds. She made do, humming softly or trying to remember lyrics in her head. She was midway through her third favorite workout song, a pumped-up ballad with trumpets and a smooth R & B beat when she rounded a corner and caught her first sight of the aforementioned rose garden, entry outlined by a grand wrought-iron archway,

The blasted bird had been right. It wasn't a pretty place reminiscent of tea time and English manor house gardens.

Here the hedges had been overtaken by snarls of thorny vines. Thick and a poisonous green, the thorn tips gleamed a purple-red. There was the occasion dark red flower, though she saw more dried, dead blossoms than living ones. Despite being drained of life the dead flowers reached out, petals still intact.

Sarah slowed her jog and moved forward tentatively, crossing into the threshold. The breeze that had cooled her stopped. There was a rustle behind her and she turned sharply.

The iron arch that she had just passed through moments before was gone, entirely gone. In its place sat a thick layer of thorn bushes.

Sarah took a deep breath. Unsheathed her dagger, letting it extend itself into a sword. Then she surged forward, feet light.

The sky overhead had somehow turned overcast, darkening even though seconds before it had been a bright blue devoid of clouds. She chose not to dwell on that, instead maintaining her focus on the path ahead. The further and further she went the more closed in the gravel pathway became. The walls grew closer together. The path became more winding. The hedges disappeared altogether, replaced by thinner but deathly walls of rose bushes. Hoping that meant she was on the correct route, she carried on.

Lithe, nearly indistinguishable voices followed her as she made her way. They carried with the sound of twigs snapping and the crunch of gravel, so that it was always missed, always made her second guess if she'd really heard something. It only added to the eeriness.

Once or twice her tunic caught onto a thorn. Each time it held fast, hooking her with greater strength than she anticipated. When Sarah bent to negotiate with the thorn there was always a sudden hush followed by a creeping sort of noise, followed by faint whispers. And when she stood back up the path before her was inevitably altered. The first time it happened she faltered. The second she gritted her teeth and tightened her jaw, chin setting. Cruel trickery or simply a trait of the garden, she would not allow it to throw her off course.

Eventually, the path became too narrow to navigate unscathed. Already she had a series of scratches upon her ankles and hand. Sarah weighed her options.

Pulling her gloves from the rose pouch on her hip, she paused at the sound of a whisper. Close this time. Almost in her ear.

" _Sarah."_

Then a childlike giggle. Toby's giggle. And the rustle of leaves, just over.

She spun to see a flash of blonde dart away past the wall of thrones.

" _I miss you, Sarah."_

The slight whine was just like her brother's. But he was not here. Toby was in a hospital waiting room in the Above. Toby didn't even remember her anymore.

Another flash of blonde hair, this time in front of her, barely visible through the thick wall of vines before her.

" _When are you coming home?"_

"You're not real," she whispered.

" _Give in,"_ the voice whined, cracking a little. " _And I could be. She'd send you back, you know. Home."_

"You're lying," she said calmly, louder. Her grip tightened on the burgundy leather of her hilt,

A sigh echoed around her. Karen's. " _Your father needs you now, Sarah. Come home."_

She could almost smell her step mother's perfume. White Diamonds. Her father always said it suited her because she had eyes so much like Liz Taylor's.

Closing her eyes, she felt the ground beneath her. Breathed.

" _Princess."_

"Daddy," she choked. Then, shaking her head, she lurched forward, cutting the air before her. Slashing without precision or plan she hacked through the thorny wall ahead of her, pushing through the twists and snares. At times her hair or clothes caught but Sarah kept moving as the voices cackled at her expense.

" _Come home, come home,"_ they chorused. " _Forget about this broken dream. Forget the Goblin King. He doesn't truly love you.'_

" _He loves her,"_ a sly voice murmured in her left ear as she brought her blade down hard on a particularly stubborn plant. The red blossoms wept petals as she felled the thing, the redness turning brown before it hit the ground.

Sarah snarled at Linda's voice. This was not the person to persuade her of anything.

Nevertheless, her treacherous mother's voice went on. " _He loves a girl that is cold and buried in the ground. A girl that is gone. He could never love you."_

She swung left, bringing her blade down again and again as she fought the thorns. They seemed to be reaching for her now. Fighting back.

"That doesn't really matter, does it?" she replied. "Because I love him and I love the Labyrinth and I will not see it fall and I will not see either of them suffer."

There was an opening now. Light streaming through a thick barrier of green and red. She wrenched off a tendril that clung to her shoulder, barreling ahead. In her ear, her mother hissed.

"Even if he thinks of her every time he looks in my eyes, even if he calls her name out and it's truly hers instead of mine," Sarah continued. "None of that matters. Do you know why mother or Labyrinth or hallucinogenic roses or whatever you are?"

There was no reply but she could feel a tremble as the voices waited.

"Because it doesn't matter," she hissed as she wrenched a thorned branch from her scalp, which scraped against her cheek. "I have _nothing_ to return to."

And with that, she burst through the final wall of roses and back into the light.

**-XXX-**


	27. Chapter 27

— **-XXX—-**

Once free she ran. She ran without thought or direction, just pointing herself towards the looming castle ahead and keeping her feet in a steady motion. A numbness overtook her as she went through the task. It was pleasantly silent.

But it did not last.

At some point, Sarah ran out of gas. She didn't know how long she'd been running, only that her feet were dragging and her body drenched with sweat. She still carried her sword. When she stopped she sheathed it with leaden arms.

The cool pond where she finally found respite was secluded and a sharp contrast to the rose garden. The water was calm, with few ripples despite a steady breeze. The sun made its surface glitter like a crystal, and it was nearly too much for her eyes to bear. Sarah sank onto the rocky bank beneath the shelter of a willow, promising herself that she would not sleep. Just...collect herself.

Taking stock of her injuries, Sarah gazed in the glassy part of the pool that was shaded by the willow's dripping branches. There was a good scratch upon her cheek. It paired well with a blossoming bruise that crept from her chin to her jaw. Her sleeves were in tatters. The leather of her boots, pouch, and gloves scratched and gouged. Parts of her scalp were bleeding, and she was sure she was missing a lot of hair. She ought to have tied or plaited it before going too far in. Long scratches ran up and down her arms. They looked like some animal had attacked her, rather than a mere plant. The blood had mixed with sweat and dirt, so it wasn't dry. Small rivers of blood dripped down her fingers.

She washed in the pond, praying it was clean. She didn't have anything to sterilize the wounds. But there were strips of cotton in the pack and a thyme-scented salve. Slathering her arms, she was granted a swift relief as coolness sank into her skin. She attempted to treat the wounds on her head, but with her hair in the way, it was difficult. So she settled for washing it and trying to massage the salve in like a shampoo. It helped a little.

Braiding swiftly, Sarah observed that the length was impressive. Less than a year ago, upon her arrival Underground it had been just to her chin in a sharp bob that waved into softness when it was humid outside. Today it was to her shoulder blades. She winced at the thought of Meldy combing it upon her return. Maybe she could talk the goblin into refraining from that part of their routine, though Sarah doubted the maid's enthusiasm would diminish upon her return. Especially if it were a victorious one and Sarah returned a queen.

Well. _If_ she returned.

Sighing, the young woman lay back onto the grass beneath the willow, toes in the water. Sarah felt that the end was near. Perhaps that was just a foolish kind of hope. She couldn't be sure.

After dozing briefly Sarah sat up. She ate another apple and drank from her waterskin. Stretching, she sat on the water's edge again, peering into the shimmering depths. Thinking.

What was left to do? How many more monsters? How many more times must she clean her sword?

The water held no answers.

Closing her eyes, Sarah silently wished she could see beyond the walls and find her path. She wished she knew if Jareth were alright — was he still unconscious, or had the Labyrinth been so cruel as to force her battle through the maze?

 _You can't let those things drown you in doubt,_ she told herself grimly. Y _ou must go through this assuming you shall be victorious. That's the only way we'll get through. This isn't like waiting for a job offer or a test score. I don't need to be prepared for failure._

_Because it's not an option._

When she opened her eyes she could see it. Herself equal to Jareth, at his side, as they opened the court for the season. Greeting diplomatic envoys. Presiding over festivals and opening parties with dances. Lounging over hours of paperwork spread across expensive desks. Matching circlets flashing as they anoint the coming of the seasons at the rise and fall of the moon. Holding her child in her arms as he stands behind her, and around her waist, looking at their new life together.

She could see it all, there, in the glassy surface of the water.

It gave her strength.

**—-XXX—-**

Finally, she stood. There was really no telling how much further she needed to venture before the end. It was already early afternoon. Sarah was hoping to end this day (if not in the castle at the center of the Labyrinth) then at least set up in a proper camp and not merely passed out on the gravel. It was a small, yet achievable, dream.

The afternoon passed quickly. A good chunk was spent scaling the narrow path along a rocky ridge that overlooked a horrifically smelly bog. While somewhat comedic in the noises that the bubbling waters emitted, she nearly toppled in several times. Her impromptu bath felt like a waste, to her disappointment. Perhaps she was imagining it, but Sarah swore the scent seeped into her pores and hair. She didn't stop to bath again, though. The sun was nearing the horizon.

That was when she met the riddle doors. After a lengthy argument regarding the logic of the riddle concocted by the guardsmen, she had a brief moment of victory before the ground opened beneath her and she was falling through a tunnel of hands. When they caught her she squirmed, not appreciating the stroking fingers on some of her more private areas. Still, they were polite enough to pass her back upwards. So she set off again.

It was a relief that the last leg was relatively uneventful. She encountered a few flower fairies, the small kind that was cousins to Jareth. They lingered close to her, but not so close as to be a nuisance. Hoggle had warned her more than once of their sharp teeth that were always ready for a nip despite their demure appearance.

"I know better," she murmured as a few flitted by, making tinkling singing sounds.

She also knew better than to approach the statue garden, which she passed to her horror. She could have sworn. As she edged around the gate tentatively, she could have sworn she saw the centaur wink. But maybe it was a trick of the hazy sunset light.

Her own statue was visible from the threshold. Sarah shuddered to see the white marble figure frozen in her dreamy stance.

The dagger stayed sheathed for the next several hours, which was in her mind a success. She was still nothing more than proficient. When all of this was over she would ask for lessons. What little she knew came from summer spent at theater camp learning stage fighting — but that had been many years ago and with the intention of playacting. Her bow work was progressing nicely, surely the addition of swordwork wouldn't be too strenuous.

Regardless of her own doubts, her swift draw was impressive to Hoggle, Didymus, and Ludo when they approached her an hour after sunset. Though far closer to the center, she set up camp when dark began to fall, knowing she needed rest. The sounds that had alerted her to their presence lead to a quick unsheathing of the dagger, which quickly extended itself as Sarah readied it in the fourth position.

"My lady!" Didymus cried as she turned, chorused with Ludo's rumble of "Sawah!" and Hoggle's curses.

Breathing heavily she stared for a moment before letting her arm drop, tapping the white stone in the pommel to make the sword shift, then sheathing it. "Hoggle! Sir Didymus! Ludo!" she cried. "What are you doing here?"

Ludo was the first to approach, ready with his bone-crushing hug.

"I knew she could manage," Didymus whispered to Hoggle, beaming. "Did you see her mightly swing?"

"Might've been luck," grumbled the dwarf, whose heart was only just settling from the mutual surprise.

"Pish," said the fox smugly.

Once Ludo was done with his greeting the others issued theirs. Once everyone was settled her injuries were exclaimed over. Sarah allowed the fuss only for a few moments.

"Why are you here?" she demanded. "And how?"

"We've been looking for you," explained Didymus. "Ever since she sent you on your task, we've been searching the whole Labyrinth for you. It's Jareth, my lady — he is fading. Something she did, he's been still as a statue since you've left. He's asleep, but you can barely tell."

Sarah paled at this, but let them go on.

"We figured," said Hoggle as he turned his roasting stick, which was loaded with fresh fish kindly caught by Ludo. "That you had a hard enough time last time, getting back there to save your brother. And even though you're a bit older and wiser, a little help never hurt anyone."

Tears welled in her eyes. "But won't she be mad? I'm supposed to go alone."

"Nothing in the rules say you can't have your friends with you," the dwarf assured firmly. He eyed her bandaged arms and a bruised jaw. "Besides, you've made it most of the way now. There isn't much further to go. And we can help you. We've got a stake in this too. It's not just you and Jareth that'll suffer should you fail."

"It will be all of us," agreed Didymus.

"All," rumbled Ludo.

As Sarah looked between them she knew it to be true. Her friends especially would not fare well. They were outcasts in a kingdom of outcasts.

"What do we need to do?" she asked finally, voice businesslike.

— **-XXX—-**

She only slept for a few fitful hours before they packed up the meager campsite. Dawn was a thin line of pink-orange just cresting the horizon as Didymus lead them across the serpentine river they're camped near, hoping gracefully across the stones that rose above the water. Sarah was grateful for the company as the fox led them confidently forward. They only walked a mere hour at a steep incline, then a sudden drop into a secret tunnel of caves. A series of snoozing faces molded into the walls met them, but it was so early that even they were not yet awake.

She feared the increased size of their party would make them disruptive — particularly in Ludo's case. One person was so much quieter than four. But the large woolly rock caller padded along quietly, the only sound is faint breathing.

She could see the final wall before the city just as the golden orb of morn made a half-circle on the hills. The gate was there, two guardsmen weary at their post.

"They would let us in, right?" Sarah asked as they nestled in the bush before the open stretch of road leading to the gates. "I mean, they are on our side."

Didymus shook his head. "I don't believe so, my lady. She might have charmed them to see you as something other than yourself. Either way, I wouldn't trust anyone in the city."

"So now what?"

"Now," Hoggle said grimly, "We sneak."

— **-XXX—-**

Being the royal gardener, Hoggle was familiar with the delivery gate, the smaller, secluded entry for the import and export of goods. Sarah pulled up the hood of her cloak and followed her friends. Hoggle was the one who distracted the gatekeeper, striking up a conversation about this year's butterfly harvest as the others darted past. Once inside Sarah made to take off her cloak only to be stopped by Didymus's paw.

"We don't know how anyone will perceive you. She plays this game well, the Labyrinth. Unlike before she's actively trying to work against you, and she has the ear of everyone here, save us. Besides, even if they aren't ensnared, we don't want to alert anyone to you. The excitement could get us mobbed. Everyone knows what state the king is in."

She nodded in agreement, adjust the hood so her face fell in deeper shadow. With that, they set off up the hill.

The next round of gates — those of the castle - were far more secure, with more guards. Hoggle scoped out the stable gates, but they too bustle with activity. Same with the delivery door. The gardener's gate was locked from the inside, which turned out to be a blessing.

Rose bushes, with the tendrils wrapped around a wooden trellis, climbed up the wall right next to the gate. Even more fortuitously, the green house's roof met the wall, allowing for a potential climber to simply hoist themselves onto the roof then ease their way down a drainpipe onto the ground.

Sarah eyed the roses warily, but it ended up being Didymus who made the climb. As the smallest, he was the natural fit. Several minutes were spent with Hoggle furiously whispering directions to find the necessary key — which resided under a flower pot — before the door creaked open forcefully, revealing a proud fox.

Hoggle winced. "I've been meaning to oil that," he said sheepishly as he ushered them inside. Ludo had to stoop with a grunt but soon they were all in.

Sarah's blood sang. They were close. Beyond the greenhouse and orchard were the pavillions, past those the formal gardens, and then —

She raced forward, surprising the others with her speed. Ludo eventually resorted to carrying the others, lumbering behind her with a huff. Didymus called after her, begging for patience. But she had no more time. He was here. She could feel that crackle in the air of magic. Success was nearly hers. Months of questions and fears soon to subside.

They reached the pavilion that was an extension of the ballroom. No one was standing guard here, fortunately, and Sarah dashed up the steps eagerly. Ludo stopped at the bottom just behind her to gently allow Didymus and Hoggle to dismount. Their small legs carried them up the stairs, though they could not match Sarah's. They were almost out of breath by the time they got inside.

Crowding behind the main door, they all took pause.

"Where is the center?" she whispered. "The true center? Last time I recall reaching the great hall and taking those stairs but then — everything morphed."

"That'll be the throne room," said Hoggle, brows furrowing. "Where the lesser goblin court gathers."

"Is that where he is?" she asked.

Didymus and Hoggle exchanged a look. "Possibly," Didymus said slowly.

"It might be a trick, Sarah," Hoggle said fearfully. "She might leave a simulacrum to bait you. Or another maze of stairs."

She looked to Ludo. His liquid black eyes were calm, blinking back at her.

"What do the stones say?"

He did not speak merely inclined his head.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah nodded. "Okay, let's go."

Didymus and Hoggle hesitated. "You want us to come, my lady?"

She smiled. "Last time I went alone. I made it and I know in the end I made the right choice. But I don't doubt this time she'll be even trickier than the Goblin King. I'd rather have you beside me this time. Of course," she added. "That is entirely your choice. I won't fault you for choosing a different path."

Didymus's chest puffed out. "Till the end, my lady!" he proclaimed in a proud whisper.

"Ludo go," the great creature agrees.

Sarah looked to Hoggle. His mouth had a grim set but he held her eyes firmly.

"You taught me years ago what it meant to be brave. I'm not a coward, Sarah, not for no one. Not even the Labyrinth."

Sarah felt like both laughing and crying at this display of friendship. She settled for a wane smile. "Okay. Let's go, then.

**-XXX-**


	28. Chapter 28

**—-XXX—-**

What met them in the throne room was neither goblins nor chickens nor an unusual emptiness. Nor was it Jareth, spread out across a table with velvet trimming and flowers, pale as death and looking like a fairy tale prince in his unconscious state, as Sarah had imagined. Instead, standing just before the crescent-shaped throne at the head of the room, was the Labyrinth. Still, in her dingy attire, the feathers and bones dangling from her belt clattered as she swayed forward with a toothy smile.

"So you've made it," she cackled, copper eyes dancing. "Ah, but with an entourage. Tsk, tsk. That won't do."

With a lazy gesture, she sent a wave of copper fire in the direction of the door. Sarah froze, fearful. But it passed with nothing more than a warm, bubbly kind of feeling. Turning, she discovered that her friends were virtual statues, stuck in their defensive positions. She stared into Ludo's panicked eyes with dread, moving to squeeze his big callous hand before swinging back around to face the crone.

"What did you do to them?" she demanded, surging forward, hand moving to the bow at her back. The arched wood responded to her touch.

The old woman looked unconcerned. "While your sentiment was lovely, dearie, this is something you ought to handle alone. Besides, I wish to have words with you. And I like privacy."

Sarah's jaw tightened painfully. "By all means."

Looking her over with interest, the Labyrinth's metallic eyes lit up as they scanned her collection of injuries. Sarah submitted to the observation silently, never losing her protective stance.

"My, my, you do look like you've gone through the wringer. Is there an inch of you without blood or bruise?" mused the crone. "You certainly threw yourself into the challenge with enthusiasm."

"It was a worthy cause," she replied coolly.

The Labyrinth smiled again. "Well, no one can say you didn't prove yourself." With a long sigh, she turned and sank into the throne, putting her head in her hands and staring at the young woman before her. With an exaggerated pout, she continued, "Tell me, Sarah, did you really have to wreck my rose garden?"

Suppressing a scoff, Sarah Williams crossed her arms. "I would rather say it wrecked me, madam."

The Labyrinth found that funny and chortled to herself for several minutes. Her audience was getting rather impatient, throwing glances back at her charmed friends with worry. Where was Jareth?

"Now, said the crone abruptly, "Business. You are very near the end, you know. Practically there. I would say he choose well in you, but if we're being honest," she grinned widely. "There was no choosing on his part. I hand-picked you myself. There was an undeniable kindness in you, girl, despite your pigheadedness in your youth. That kind of thing bodes well for a leader. Though, my, you are a brash one. Almost to the point of stupidity, sometimes. Still, you have impressed me, Sarah. You were not the one I would have bet on in the beginning. There were others far older and wiser and more beautiful than you — more queenly, one might say — but you've proven yourself the best among them all."

This odd combination of insult and praise made her skin itchy. Never taking her eyes from the crone's Sarah calmly insisted, "Pure luck. There is no doubt another girl given the same advantage would do just as well. In spite of my flaws, I was very lucky in sheer circumstance."

"No," said the Labyrinth thoughtfully. "There is something more. You have a quality the draws folk to you. A charisma. There were others with it, true, but no one made such lasting alliances as you." She gestured to the small party at the back of the room and Sarah flinched. "But perhaps I ought not to compare. There is a reason you are here and it's not because other girls were lacking."

"What happened to them?" she asked abruptly. "Those that failed?"

The old woman's wiry brows raised. "I could hardly leave them here, could I? No one wanted that. No, they were sent home. Made to think it was all a dream. We eased the sorrow of lost children, that way. And the ones that won...well, you know. They may leave with their winnings. Some get the offer to stay. But most go on their way."

"But they remember, after." Sarah worked to control her voice, trying to stay.

"Well, yes. I like to think of it as a lesson. Quite the fairy tale-ending, eh?" She chuckled. "Of course, when it came to you it was a little different."

"What was so different about me? Why did I come home and forget everything? What purpose did that serve?"

The Labyrinth observed her for a moment. "You were different. You had regrets. You weren't so sure of your choice in the end. You had doubts. Oh, no, not about saving your brother. That was never a question to you. But you were tempted by the offer. You found a place in the Underground, and despite the dark edge you saw to it, despite the challenge, it took your heart. So it seemed cruel to keep you in pain, always wondering what if you had made a different choice. So I took that question away from you. I didn't think, you see, that he would find a workaround. That he would bring you back. I misjudged his attachment. You didn't seem too different from any of the others. But he was careful, I think, to make it seem like you were just like any of the others."

Sarah felt rooted to the spot. She waited for the crone to go on.

"He kept it from me for as long as he could but he had gotten quite attached to you. So much so, that I thought maybe we missed our mark the first time. So he sought a second chance. Luckily you had an unaffectionate and selfish mother." The Labyrinth winked. "There are rules, you know. But she was more than willing to trade you. All it took was a little suggestion."

She had suspected as much. After all, it wasn't likely her mother independently sought out a Goblin King to make an exchange with. Of course, there was some nudging from magic.

"For my part, I wonder if he merely wanted to leave you to cook a little longer," continued the Labyrinth thoughtfully. "Fifteen is awfully young. I wouldn't be surprised if his hope was that a few years of distance and growth would be kinder to you both. Give you the chance to live a little. Though that was quite the risk — there was a good chance he wouldn't get that second chance, or that you would find something worth keeping you back. But it seems as though his gamble worked out."

She clapped her hand suddenly. "Taking your memories worked out for the best, in the end. Could you have loved him, remembering that menacing figure of your youth? At least now you are on a slightly more even footing!"

This time Sarah did not hold back her scoff. "I do think that perhaps that hope is negated by the menacing figure who kidnapped me. We didn't really get the opportunity to begin this romance as equals."

Pursing her lips, the Labyrinth conceded. "Perhaps."

"So what now?" Sarah asked. "Where do I go from here?"

"Well, that is the question isn't it?" The Labyrinth shifted to the edge of her seat, eyes glowing.

The room began to slowly alter itself. Sarah was drawn closer to the center as the walls closed in and darkness assumed. Suddenly, laid out in the center between Sarah and the Labyrinth was spread out a velvet-draped table. Flowers edged the indigo fabric, orchids and lilies, and dahlias framed by ferns and ivy. A beam of pure light from an unknown source centered on the table. Jareth was just a pale as Sarah had envisioned. He looked bloodless.

In any other circumstance, the high drama would have sent her into peals of laughter. That humor felt hollow today and she stared down at the still figure of the Goblin King. She hesitated to touch him, finally putting one hand atop his, which were folded across his stomach.

"What happened to him?" she whispered. "He looks worse than before."

The Labyrinth shrugged. "I couldn't have him awake and mucking about. There's already been a fair bit of cheating on your behalf, Sarah Williams. But he is fine - merely sleeping. He dreams of you, you know. It's all quite sweet."

She refused to take her eyes off of him. "What exactly do I need to do here? Kiss him? Pledge my undying affection."

This amused the crone, who shook her head. "Nothing so dramatic. Now you need to make a choice, dearie. You've fought your way through me, through challenges and adversity greater than that of your childhood. There is no doubt you care for the fae before you and for this place and its people."

"I should hope so," she murmured.

The old woman ignored her, though her copper eyes flashed in irritation as she went on calmly. "So, for your sacrifice, I shall grant you a choice. You can stay here, under the original terms. Breaking the curse, becoming the queen, no more stealing children, never see you family or home again. You know the deal. Or —" The Labyrinth pause, allowing weight to collect before she continued. "- you can go back. Return home to your family, safe and sound. Our deal will hold, of course. The Goblin King will be free. But so will you."

Sarah stared. Confusion marred her already damaged brow. "What do you mean, go home? They don't remember me. There is nothing to return to."

"Ah, but that's where you lack imagination, Sarah." The Labyrinth smacked her lips with delight. She moved towards the young woman, shuffling without the support of her cane. "Who is to say that forgetting lasts forever? I have no doubt with a tug or two of magic all can be set back to where it was. You can come home, just as though you were gone from a long vacation and your family would be none the wiser. Just overjoyed to have their beloved Sarah back."

"Why are you offering this to me?" Sarah whispered. "This wasn't part of the deal."

"You've earned the choice." The Labyrinth was looking at her carefully, eyes flitting across every inch of the young woman's conflicted features. "After all. You did all of this sheerly out of the goodness of your heart. Knowing there was nothing in the Above left, you rejected sinking into resentment and fully embraced the citizens here. That nobility ought to be rewarded. If you wish…."

Her eyes drew back to the figure on the table. The breath froze in her chest as she regarded the man that lay there. The king, the kidnapper. The person who was passionate about books and music and like to tell her the language of flowers. The man who wrenched her from her world not once, but twice for his own selfish desires. The person who had sacrificed for his people. Who sacrificed for her. Who - who-

— **-XXX—-**


	29. Chapter 29

**—-XXX—-**

In the end, she did perhaps the most cliche of responses in bending to swiftly kiss her king.

It was not a particularly good kiss, at least, not at first. Jareth was cold and unmoving, so it felt at first as though she were kissing a corpse. His lips were like stone and they were stiff beneath her ministrations. But soon her warmth coursed through him and as she drew back the mismatched pair of eyes were fluttering open with more than a little effort. He was weak but awake. Her hand went to one of his wrists, which were lavender with cold. A pulse beat sluggishly.

Unlike the fairy tales, Sarah had to patiently wait in all of her blood and grime for her beloved to struggle to sit. His head was spinning slightly and only once he had centered himself was he able to focus on the matters at hand. Specifically, the Labyrinth, who stood back observing silently with a wicked smile plastered upon her face.

"You look too satisfied for my comfort," he said with a brow raised. "Though I take it as Sarah is here and somewhat alive that she succeeded."

"Succeeded and agreed to stay. Which is grand. I am so looking forward to having a new queen." The Labyrinth smacked her lips. "What fun we shall have, my lady. You are just the sort of spitfire we need."

Jareth took up her hands and drew her chin upwards so that she was looking at him. Still a little in shock at her own decision, she stared up at him.

"I know that could not have been easy," he said softly. "None of this easy. But I am glad. I knew you would find a way."

Sarah simply stared, for she did not know what to say. A moment ago he had been somewhat near death. Everything had hung in the balance. And now —

All of the months spent in the library. The snooping and sneaking, the fights and questions. Weeks of trying to puzzle together his cryptic answers and the blank spaces in history books. It had all lead to these moments of perfect clarity. Yet somehow she felt — it was —

In all of his patience, Jareth did not nudge her to speak. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, ignoring the blood and dirt so that he could look upon the room. His brows rose at the sight of the small motley gang still frozen in the doorway. But he did not comment, choose to turn back to the spirit of his realm.

"So, our bargain has been fulfilled. We have a willing and able queen. Our realm is no longer in the business of snatching babies. And we are free to come and go as we wish."

"I can't take away the fae from you," she warned. "Nor the immortality. That's what your ancestors wanted once, but it simply isn't within my power. But no more stealing children. That part of the curse is gone."

A bittersweet smile graced Jareth's face. "I don't know what I would do with mortality, now. I have been a beast for so long I don't think I could find my way towards humanity. Even with her help. It's just as well."

"She is as doomed as you." The Labyrinth nodded to Sarah. "That was the bargain, after all. She's not-quite-human anymore. But perhaps human enough to give you a little balance. Who knows!"

Jareth's grip on her shoulder tightened briefly. "And for that, I'm eternally grateful," he replied quietly. "We are honored by her self-sacrifice."

The Labyrinth nodded in satisfaction. "Then all is right." She bowed once. "My lord, my lady. I shall take my leave of you. And I shall take these ragamuffins with me. I suspect you would like privacy." She winked. And with a snap of her gnarled fingers, Sarah and Jareth were alone.

Jareth eased himself off the table, reaching to help Sarah. Blindly, she followed, allowing the Goblin King to take her hands in his and kiss her forehead gently. He led her towards the servants' stairs and up to his chamber, glancing back often. Silent the whole while as they navigated the winding steps, she ignored his worried glances.

Once there he drew her a bath and left her to her own devices with a chaste kiss pressed upon her forehead again. Sarah lingered in the warm water. It was a balm to her battered body after the initial flinch upon her open wounds contacting the hot liquid. She spent some time taking a tally of her bruises. They spanned from her shoulders to her ankles, with smaller ones scattered across her arms and legs and larger examples stretching against her ribs. She suspected a few ribs might have been cracked or even broken. They felt better — the magic in her blood was mending everything in double time — but it still ached fiercely.

When the bubbles had subsided and the water was reduced to a lukewarm temperature she left the bath reluctantly. Taking her time to dress and brush her damp hair, she finally joined Jareth in the main room of his apartments, hugging herself as she sank into one of the chairs beside the fireplace, which was ablaze.

The king did not acknowledge her at first. Whatever strength he had rallied previously was waning. Now that the necessary tasks of speaking to staff and ordering food had been accomplished he sat nursing a glass of brandy and staring into the flame. It was a companionable though exhausted kind of silence. Sarah followed suit, picking at the tray of food on the small table beside her and contemplating the fire. Her mind felt like jello.

At some point she fell asleep in the chair, waking with a jolt at Jareth looming above her. Eyes wide in terror, she struck out and bit back a shout once she realized where she was and with whom. Jareth caught her flailing arms before they managed to strike, brows rising.

Less than three days in the Labyrinth had taken its toll. Sarah remembered hearing about PTSD from friends in college — it struck people who'd survived war or assault. While the tension that was currently welling in her chest was far from an actual case of Post-Traumatic Stress, she had an inkling of what that sort of helpless, paralyzing feeling could overwhelm a person. This would pass with time. Time and rest.

"Bed," the king said firmly, dropping her arms, and that was that. He led her to his massive four-poster in the next room, watching as she shed her bathrobe and crawled between the covers. Jareth hesitated before joining her, removing his shirt and trousers, slipping between the covers with whisper-lightness that made Sarah feel like an elephant. He made a point of leaving a large gap between them. Sarah was surprised that he didn't go so far as to build a pillow barricade.

She winced at the sarcastic thought. He'd been through God knows what over the last few days. They were both tending to their wounds. Tonight it was best that they both catch their breath.

With a weary murmur, Jareth extinguished the lamps. Sarah curled into her usual position, waiting for sleep to overtake her. Every inch of her was sore and utterly worn out. But sleep proved to be elusive, at least for the first few moments.

Under the blankets, a cool hand found hers. Long fingers interlaced and squeezed tightly in the dark. With that Sarah allowed herself to be submerged into slumber.

— **-XXX—-**

Sunlight woke Sarah, along with the twitter of birdsong. She loved waking up like this, naturally, and into a bright new morning. For several moments she allowed herself the luxury of lying in, absorbing the pale light streaming in through the windows that flanked either side of the bed. When she turned to face the other side she was surprised to see Jareth was still asleep.

They were just as distant as they had been upon entering the bed. Sarah moved closer gently, trying not to wake the king as she examined his sleeping form.

He had a lot more color about him today. Jareth was not what one would necessarily describe as tan but he had a certain bronze glow about him that contrasted with his platinum hair. Today he was not quite as glowing as usual, but there was far more of a golden tone to him. Only his eyelids, which were flickering lilac, indicated any hint of ill pallor.

Wasn't that a sign of deep sleep? Rapid eye movement? Something like that, Sarah recalled with a yawn. He must be dreaming. Hopefully of only good things.

She observed his breathing for several moments before drowsiness overtook her again. Sarah sunk into the pillows once more, snuffing out another yawn as she curled towards her love. Her eyes met his half-lidded ones after she had settled.

"Morning," she greeted softly, hoarseness catching her voice slightly.

Jareth extracted an arm from beneath the blankets, cupping the sides of her face. A sleepy smile playing across the corners of his mouth he breathed back the greeting as he pulled her towards him. With squeak, Sarah soon found her nose buried in the Goblin King's chest. She nuzzled the space lightly before sighing back into a doze.

When she next woke the sun was higher in the sky. Someone had left a lukewarm pot of tea by the fire along with some sandwiches. Jareth was beside her, propped up by pillows as he sifted through a pile of correspondence on his bedside table, spectacles halfway down his nose. A lap desk was balance over the blankets, a variety of pens spread out across it.

"Do you truly need those?"

Jareth's brows rose, though he did not look away from the letter that currently held his attention. "I believe they make me look quite distinguished."

"That's not really an answer."

He smiled. "Reading for long hours can give me a headache. This helps, a little."

Sarah sat up, stretching, and wincing as bruised skin stretched over sore muscles. Sleep had eased some aches, but she suspected that a session with a healer might be in order. Tentatively, she slid from the covers and made her way over to the tray by the fire. Balancing a teacup in each hand and a sandwich hanging from her mouth, she returned to the bed. Jareth accepted a teacup, absentmindedly leaning over to kiss her forehead as she polished off the sandwich.

"What are you reading?"

"The usual reports," he said as he waved towards her tea, reheating it. "Three days of comatic enchantment, unfortunately, does not mean the work waits. If anything, it piles up."

"Anything I can help with?" Sarah asked slowly.

Jareth peered over his glasses, the glare flashing. He looked confused, then in wonderment. "You...truly wish to?"

She picked up a pen. "I might need some assistance in understanding some of the finer points, but if you don't mind —"

He cut her off with a kiss, tipping the lap desk over as he cupped her face with ungloved hands. "Sarah," he breathed. "You cannot imagine how happy that makes me."

"You're just happy someone is going to take some of that paperwork."

He kissed her again. "No, I am happy that you love me still."

Sarah was skeptical. "You got that from me agreeing to reply to some letters? I feel as though I am missing something."

The king stroked her temple, looking a little more somber. "I was so afraid that you would wake this morning and regret everything. You were so quiet last night. It did not seem as though you were happy with your choice."

"I was in shock." She put a hand on his chest. "It was a lot to digest. But there wasn't really a choice, Jareth. I couldn't have let you go to ruin. And as much as I miss my family...I don't think I could go back to that life."

She did not say that he was the reason she couldn't return to being plain human Sarah Williams. That the year Underground had not only changed her humanity but her sense of self, taken her belonging to the Above. There was nothing left for Sarah Williams. Even if the universe were altered and her family remembered that they once had a daughter and sister, she could never go back to living a mundane existence. Would she turn around from being virtually a queen to — what? A sales associate at Old Navy while she tried to pull her life together? Join an improv troupe and perform on weekends, live in a studio, and think about attending graduate school?

No. That life wasn't there for her, now. She couldn't go back. And whether he knew it or not, Jareth ensured that she would never be up for returning. Even if that had been a viable option. Even if going back hadn't hinged on dooming the Labyrinth and the fae she now perhaps loved, she hadn't ever really had a choice, had she?

Jareth pressed a cool kiss to her forehead with so much raw gravity Sarah felt the weight sink into her. She was well and truly accepting this. After a year, after fighting him every step of the way, after battling through a hellish series of trials to prove something she didn't have much heart for in the first place, it was offering to do a bit of paperwork that finally sealed the deal. She pulled back slightly to meet his embrace.

"I said that I would do this, didn't I?" she asked after another rather breathless kiss. "I promised."

When they fell apart Jareth heated her tea once more. He summoned her a second lap desk and produced a bathrobe. With a little bit of settling, they fell into a comfortable silence with only the rustle of paper and sound of the pen upon it breaking the quiet.

In the time it wouldn't feel anything other than natural.

— **-XXX—-**

Linda would never know a day's peace.

Jareth had made certain of that. The world might not remember that Linda had once had a daughter, but for the rest of her life, Linda would remember. She would never be given the chance to forget.

If perhaps left to her own devices, the vague detached guilt the actress associated with essentially selling her only child would have eventually dissipated, especially once the TV show contract came through. And those feelings would have all but vanished upon her Tony nomination for a small supporting role. It would have been disgusting easy for her to wipe all traces of her daughter from her mind.

But Jareth's bargain had left a backdoor open in Linda's self-obsessed mind. Making it all too easy for the king to issue his own little version of revenge on Sarah's behalf.

Not a night passed for Linda without some dream of her only daughter. They were sometimes, mercifully pleasant. Just memories of Sarah's childhood — nostalgic, a taste of what once was. But that was not the standard. Jareth's preferred method of torment was replaying the moment of her daughter's betrayal. The sight of Sarah's tearful blue-green eyes, the catch in her voice, her pleas. It was a wonderful twist of the knife.

If he was feeling particularly cruel he'd send the sleeping Linda a fabrication — a vision of a ragged and bloodied Sarah withstanding the cruelest torments. Something extra to make the vile woman question her choice.

Those were the nights she woke in a cold sweat, shaking, cursing his name.

Jareth was happy to dish some sleep deprivation. He'd suffered his own upon Sarah's arrival. That Linda should not instinctually share some level of guilt was a true shame and clearly needed correction. If anything, he was doing them both a favor. Jareth shared his guilt and Linda got what was due to her. The universe would eventually see that all was level. Jareth was merely lending those benevolent powers a willing hand.

She started to well and truly suffer. Her craft was weak with her lack of sleep. Her skin began to sallow. Bags gathered beneath puffy eyes. Surgery and fillers could only do so much. Linda was well and truly screwed.

Months went into finding a solution. Doctor after doctor consulted. She was put on pills. There was a sleep test. She tried a homeopathic suggested by her makeup person. Sleepytime tea. At some moment of true desperation, she convinced her latest bedmate to share some prescription muscle relaxers.

"You're losing weight," a co-star sighed appreciatively.

"You can really go all night," one of her interchangeable starlet hook-ups marveled.

"Linda, you have captured the mania of that character," a director approved.

It's when the morning show host, a person practically made of cardboard and hair gel, asks with a considerably practiced smile what, exactly, Linda William's secret to success was that the exhausted, drugged, and drowsy actress answers truthfully for the first time ever.

"I sold my daughter in exchange for the promise of success."

The blonde host's plastered expression falters for a second. They've been on this show for eight years, both in the trenches as a mere correspondent and now as the main cast host. This is not their first rodeo with wacko celebrities.

"You — sold —?"

Linda's smile never budged. "Oh, yes. I gave her to this, well, without giving it away, a member of royalty. And in exchange, he assured my success. Money, connections. Everything."

In the host's mic the producer was currently whisper-yelling, telling them to wrap it up, go to commercial. But the host, who was already not Linda's biggest fan after watching her snap at a production assistant during miking and had been slighted by Linda's fumble in referring to them by the weekend host's name, was not going to simply allow the actress to gracefully exit this blunder. To be honest, they weren't even sure if Linda had a daughter — the pre-interview dossier had not mentioned a daughter, just an ex-husband and a series of boyfriends. Regardless, this was some TMZ-level shit. This was ratings gold.

"So," the host said slowly. "You gave your daughter to some member of royalty for favors and financing to advance your career. Was your daughter...consenting of this arrangement?"

Linda giggled, sweeping a long curtain of dark hair over her shoulder. "Oh goodness, no. She would have had a fit. You know how teenagers are. Though she's not a teenager anymore, I guess."

The producer was no longer doing a stage whisper scream into the host's ear. They were full-on screaming _. "Wrap it up. Go to break. She is losing it."_

But Linda Williams looked as cool and collected as she had when she answered a question about her male castmates. Utterly unphased. Entirely unaware or uncaring about what she had revealed. The host was fascinated. Folding their hands in their lap they ventured to ask one more question.

"And in giving your daughter to this unnamed person, do you know what their intentions were with her?"

"Oh goodness, who could say." Linda shrugged, a charming dimple sliding onto her cheeks. "I didn't ask."

The camera person could be heard swearing off-screen. The production assistant riffled through their clipboard looking for something, anything to steer this train back onto the track. Linda's agent was slackjawed, frozen, unable to help his star. From the control room, the producer yelled until someone slammed the right buttons and the show cut to a break. Across the country housewives and the retired who made up the show's demographics were in various stages of shock.

There was no comeback from this. While the Entertainment Tonight reporters concluded that there was no recorder of Linda Williams having a daughter, let alone one she'd sold, that didn't stop the rumbling from the public. The country was split — one half having a conversation about mental health, the other demonizing the actress.

Sleep deprivation continued. Linda appears to only be vaguely aware of her blunder. The circles beneath her eyes grew heavier and heavier. Her agent dropped her. Erratic behavior had her cast offsets — though the rumors and whispering practically put one foot out the door for her. Before the year was out, Linda found herself being checked into what several news sources referred to as a "rehab." She was photographed wearing large, bug-eyed sunglasses, an oversized cardigan, stumbling through the sliding front doors.

The cocktails they had her on finally gave Linda Williams some much-needed sleep. The dreams remained, each more vivid as the last. Lucidity slipped with each vision.

"Tell me about your daughter," her psychiatrist asked every session. "Did you see her again?"

"Sarah," Linda would say vaguely. "She was running in the park. With that dreadful dog, stinking thing."

"Why do you think you have so many memories of her as a child when you say she primarily lived with your ex-husband and you rarely saw her?"

"Oh, I don't know." The question seemed to annoy her. "That hardly matters. I need to know what is wrong. Why does she keep bothering you?"

The doctor sighed. "Ms. Williams, do you think perhaps this daughter you refer to is a way you look back on your younger self with regrets?"

The actress threw out a biting laugh. "No, I think she's my daughter. I vividly remember giving birth, it absolutely wrecked my figure."

He tapped the pen against his notebook with a sigh. "I can see we are going to make limited progress today…."

The worst dream came a week after her stay was extended by another 6 months. She was in a dark wood, mist swirling through the trees, clouds blocking out the moon above. Branches snapped every so often, causing Linda to whip around. Cold, she hugged herself, feeling the chill closing in. When a solemn pair of cloaked figures waded through the mists towards her Linda found herself rooted to the spot.

Sarah, as pale as a corpsed, peered out from the folds of her night-colored cloak. Her eyes were glazed and lips bloodless. Her companion looked hardly better, his eyes pure ice. Linda shivered as her daughter's paper skin touched hers, Sarah grasping her wrist with surprising strength.

"You sold me," the ghost hissed. "The cost should've been too high, but your vanity knows no bounds."

"You're not real," Linda whispered.

The man behind her dream-daughter bared his yellowed teeth. "We're as real as you make us."

Had this been restricted to dreams, all would have been well. But the sleep deprivation returned. And with it, over time, came the hallucinations. Linda would stop midway through the courtyard to cower in terror at some unseen force. She was caught in the courtyard whispering frantically to her "daughter." This was enough to make Linda's psych advise that her stay be extended to indefinite.

Robert Williams, despite the bitterness of their separation, made a point of calling his ex-wife over the holidays. It didn't sit well with him that she was virtually alone in her madness. He was, by his own assumption, a good man. And that's what good men did.

But she was insistent about talking about their daughter, Sarah. And Robert didn't have a daughter named Sarah. He had a son, Toby, with his second wife. The only time he'd discussed children with Linda she had laughed at the idea then pouted at the notion of "ruining her figure." All of this talk of this mythical daughter was starting to grow old.

One of the administrators of the facility caught Robert after one of his holiday calls. "This Sarah," the woman asked slowly. "There's not a chance Linda is feeling some kind of guilt over a, ah, terminated pregnancy? Or perhaps a miscarriage?"

The question baffled Robert, but he admitted it was a possibility. "Though she never informed me if that was the case."

He could hear the admin scratching out a note. "I'll pass that along to her doctor. Maybe we can get some headway..."

**-XXX-**

"It feels a little cruel," Sarah whispered as she peered into the crystal Jareth spun on his fingertips.

"Does it?" he asked lazily.

"Perhaps she's had enough."

The king sighed, tossing the ball up where it disappeared mid-air with a small " _pop."_ He smiled at the young woman sitting on the bed, touching the tip of her nose with one gloved finger. "I suppose given the reduction of my duties I've been a bit bored. Had a little more time to dedicate to this particular task," he admitted.

"Well, I think that is quite enough."

Moving to sit beside his bride, Jareth's brows rose. "Have you forgiven her, then?"

Sarah scoffed. "Hardly. I just can't bear to watch this any longer. I've not had the level of practice as you."

"Now that hurts."

She smiled, leaning into the fae's shoulder. He reached up to tuck her against him with a sigh. Sarah moved closer, inhaling his scent.

"It's like in fairy tales," he said. "The wicked might have an initial victory, but in the end, they get their...oh, what was that word...just treats?"

"Desserts," Sarah corrected. "And I suppose. But I thought most stories ended with a merciful and forgiving heroine?"

"You're thinking of your modern, scrubbed-up stories. In Grimm's, few have mercy, let alone a happy ending."

Sarah tossed her head, sniffing. "Well, this is my story. And I want to be merciful." She absentmindedly stroked the embroidered sleeve of the king who held her. The ivory thread against cream fabric was subtle, but she could make out vines.

Jareth dipped his head to kiss her brow. "Very well. Your wish is my command and all that."

"Thank you," she whispered, moving up to capture his lips. He smiled against her.

All was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for going on this journey! I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment or critique.


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